


embers

by lanaboke



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Arrows, Blood, Bows, Death, Explicit Language, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Romance, Slow Burn, Swords, Violence, War, bow and arrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28795140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanaboke/pseuds/lanaboke
Summary: in another world, everything's different - but, the world's still changing. after their village is attacked by an opposing kingdom, a widow must protect her family from the war, while also avenging the death of her husband - by going to the king to convince him to let her fight in the war.
Kudos: 4





	1. Little Horn

**Author's Note:**

> playlist at @lanaboke on itunes  
> \- “E M B E R S”
> 
> — also, slight use of real names (only clay, nick, alex). nick is mentioned in like one scene a couple times, alex is mentioned once, and clay is used a bunch but its only to show who “dream” really is in this story
> 
> enjoy!

**song;** _domestic bliss - glass animals_

“I don’t really get it, no.”

Alanna scoffs as she grabs the plates off the table, “You never understand my jokes,” she walks to the sink, turning the faucet on, “you just laugh because you don’t get them.” 

Her husband laughs, “Do you want me to be rude and not laugh?” 

Alanna gives him a glare, “No, but I’d like you to at least tell me you don’t get them instead of just laughing your arse off,” and her husband gave her a weird look.

“Why don’t you curse? I like hearing you curse,” her husband smirked at her.

Alanna turns back to look at him, “because our infant daughter is sitting right there.” Her eyes dart to her daughter as he sits in a wooden high chair, eating a plate of pieces of cereal on it, as her husband sighs.

“You say that like she’ll remember what I’m saying,” he said, then he turned to the baby, “do you remember anything I’m saying, Camille? Huh, pal?” he spoke in a baby-like voice to his daughter, cooing at her.

Camille babbles, “Fuck!”

Alanna turns back around, “Schlatt! I told you to watch your language around Camille!” She scolds him, earning a sour demeanor from her husband who now sat with crossed arms.

Her husband was the (now retired) general for the Pogtopia Kingdom, and although he was supposed to look to be the symbol of peace in the kingdom, his two large, curved horns on each side of his head made others fear him. He had a beard, dark brown hair with similar colored eyes. He was beastly, and he looked as if he was the devil himself.

His wife, Alanna, on the other hand, looked like a fallen angel. She was kind and caring, always helping others. She had long silky brown hair with easily tan skin, chocolate eyes and dimples. She was pretty, and she’d tease her husband about how manly he looked daily, even though he found her teasing as compliments.

“Aye, aye,” Schlatt said, “ain’t my damn— darn fault that she picks up the words I’m saying. That’s what babies do, darling, you gotta get used to that.” Schlatt lets out a laugh, “hell, this is our second child and yet you’re still not used to babies repeating every little thing you say.” His wife scoffed at his words.

“Says the one who won’t stop cursing around the children,” said Alanna, and Schlatt grumbled as he stood up from the table, walking over to his wife. Alanna sighed, “I just wish you didn’t have to propose at such a young age,” 

Schlatt approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist, lying his cheek against the back of her head as he was much taller than her. 

“We got married when I was fifteen, you sixteen. It wasn’t right, even if our parents did arrange us to be together,” Alanna scoffed, “just because they didn’t want their bloodlines to die out.” Schlatt shook his head lightly, holding onto his wife. He and her both knew of how they married, but Schlatt never took it upon himself to really think much about it. All he cared about was that he was with her, because the rest of it didn’t matter. To him, at least.

Schlatt lets out a large breath, “Do you not love me?”

“I’m in love with you, Schlatt,” Alanna replied rather quickly, “but we’re just in our mid-twenties — and yet we have an eight year old son and an infant daughter. We got married when we were just kids, Schlatt. I’m not sure how others see that.”

“We’re not the first ones to be married at young ages,” said Schlatt. He knew his wife was the insecure type, but he never expected her to be insecure about their own marriage.

“I know, but—”

“But nothing,” Schlatt cut her off, “it doesn’t matter what others think.” He said sternly, then he softened his tone, “it’s you and me forever, okay?”

She smiled, holding onto his arms that snaked around her, “Thank you.”

Schlatt hummed, “For what? Being a good husband?” He teases, stepping back as Alanna turned around to face him, “Aren’t I just that great?”

Alanna raised her eyebrow at him, “Keep thinking that,” she jokes, poking his nose before heading over to Camille who had just now finished eating her breakfast. She picks her up, and then a little boy runs into the room, exclaiming some nonsense that only Schlatt could know.

“Dad! Dad!” The boy called, running to his father, “I got my first horn!”

Schlatt’s bored expression almost immediately shifted into a happier one, an expression Alanna knew she’d never forget. An expression of pure love, proud of his son.

Schlatt picks him up and spins him around, “Oh my god! That’s so great, Karl!” He sets his son down back on his feet, and he kneels down, looking at the little horn growing in on Karl’s head, and Schlatt laughed, though he sounded as if he was about to cry. “Oh, wow, I—” He was at a loss of words, “I-I’m so proud of y-you, son.”

Alanna smiled, walking over and kneeling down, still holding Camille in her arms. 

There sat the four member family on the floor, so proud of Karl about his little horn, and nothing could change that good feeling. The feeling of home. The feeling they’d lose.

* * *

**song;** _affection - cigarettes after sex_

  
  


“Aw, fuck — no, I forgot to go to the store yesterday,” said Schlatt groggily as he rubbed his eyes, sitting up in bed. He was never a morning person. Alanna sat on the edge of the bed, putting her shoes on so she could head to the market since Schlatt had forgotten to the day before because he spent so much time with his son, Karl, after his little horn began to grow in.

“It’s alright,” Alanna grinned, “I’ll be taking Karl and Camille to the market today since I know you’re tired from yesterday,” she reached over and ruffled his already messy hair. He takes her hand and kisses the back of it gently, humming softly. 

“Stay safe, okay?” Schlatt perked his head up a bit, and Alanna leaned over and pecked his lips before standing up from the bed, heading into her childrens’ rooms, getting them ready to go to the market as Schlatt fell back asleep. 

Maybe an hour had passed and Alanna was already ready to leave the market. She had bought both of her kids something they wanted there. Camille had gotten this little pony doll that had purplish hair and it was as soft as fur. Karl wanted a little bow and arrow like his father has, one he would use to hunt and fight in battles with since he was the general of Pogtopia’s army, but Schlatt was retired now, and had been for about a month because of an injury to his left leg that caused him to limp every time he walked. Schlatt’s injury caused him to hit rock bottom, he could no longer fight to protect his family, so he drowned in alcohol, but he was happy. He had his family, and he knew Alanna would never leave him.

Alanna glanced over to one of the tents, but someone caught her eye as they walked by. It was a boy just a bit older than Karl, brown hair and large eyes, and horns. The horns caught her by surprise, and she knew who that was, but before you could even process it, a scream was heard from down the street. She turns, and all she sees is fire destroying the homes of her friends and neighbors. 

She gasped, holding Camille in her arms as Karl held onto her arm.

“M-mommy,” Karl whimpered, and Alanna looked down at him with a burdened expression. 

She looked around, trying to find someone she knew, and luckily she did. 

“Erin!” She called out, and the other girl approached her quickly. “Could you stay with Karl and Camille? I have to go help,”

Erin was Schlatt’s younger sister, a brown haired girl who loved to argue and always strived to be right. She was about an entire foot shorter than Schlatt, but only an inch shorter than Alanna. They were close, ever since they were little, which is how Alanna and Schlatt first met, and well, fell in love. As cliche as it sounds, it’s true.

Erin nodded, and Alanna carefully gave Camille to her sister-in-law before she ran off down the market street, going to help whoever might be trapped beyond those fires. Erin sighed, “You’re always going to help, Lana,” she shook her head, “one day it’ll kill you.”

Alanna sprinted, turning the corner. The main fire in one of the bigger houses had been put out and the people had survived, but Alanna turned and ran into one of the houses still burning, covering her mouth and nose with her shirt so she wouldn’t inhale too much smoke.

“If anyone’s in here, call out!” She shouts, squinting her eyes as she searches the burning house. 

“Over here!” Someone called out from what seemed to be the kitchen area, so Alanna made her way over there, bending down a bit so she wouldn’t hit any of the wooden pillars that had fallen over, filled with fire. 

Alanna kneeled down and helped the person up, it was a young man, scrawny looking. She put his arm around her shoulders and helped him stand before they made their way slowly out of the burning house. 

Coughing, Alanna helps the guy sit down on a bench away from the house as the royal guard began to put out the fires. She exhales, coughing more. Her entire body was covered in soot, same as the guy’s. She pushed back her hair, and a woman approached her.

“Miss,” she said, “Your house, it’s burning, too!” It was a neighbor of hers who she hadn’t really talked to before, and Alanna felt her stomach twist from her neighbor’s words.

Without a word said, Alanna ran to her house, faster and faster every minute until she slowed down once she approached the house she lived in — the house that was burning down. She panicked, and turned to one of her neighbors who stood there and watched this all unfold, “Where’s Schlatt?”

The neighbor’s eyes went wide, “I never saw him come out,” and Alanna gasped, “Alanna—”

She pushed him away and darted to the door, but a couple guards grabbed her and stopped her, pulling her back away from the front door of the flame corrupted house. “No!” She screams out, “No! Let me save him! Let me save my husband! Please! Schlatt!” 

They let go of her, but she fell to her knees on the ground, sobbing.

“Schlatt, please . . .” She cried out, “Please don’t leave us, please . . .”

The house soon collapsed in on itself, the smoke becoming darker as the fire spread higher and higher. It took hours for the royal guard to put the fires all out, but it took even longer for Alanna to stop crying. She lost her husband of nine years so quickly, so unexpectedly. 

She knew she’ll always hate those flaming embers. Why wouldn’t she?


	2. To Jade’s House

**song;** _k - cigarettes after sex_

Summer had never felt worse. Three years passed by like it was nothing. Alanna, now twenty seven, was still a single mother and a widow. The funeral for Schlatt was painful, and she still remembered it like it was yesterday, when they lowered his empty casket into the ground as his body was so severely burned that it was barely even able to move a bit without collapsing.

Karl was eleven, while Camille was only a three year old toddler. She worried about her children since they no longer had a father figure to watch over them, but she was glad they were still happy. Karl was literally just like his father, while Camille was becoming more like Alanna when she was a toddler. 

Alanna was more worried about Karl than Camille. Ever since Schlatt’s death, Karl had been training himself with his bow and arrow so he could be just like his father who had fallen during an supposed attack against the Pogtopia kingdom that led to the death of his father and several others. The village was almost completely destroyed by the end of that month, which led to King Dream to evacuate and relocate his remaining civilians to another village in his country.

However, Alanna had been trying to figure out why this attack occured, and why it even happened in the first place. King Dream revealed a week after the first attack that it was by the opposing country across the El Rapids River that divided the two countries.

L’Manberg was the opposing country to Pogtopia, which is where Erin, Schlatt’s sister, had left. After the death of her brother, Erin couldn’t handle the loss and blamed it all on Pogtopia and its lack of security. She moved to L’Manberg where she is now the kingdom’s Spymaster. 

Alanna hasn’t spoken with Erin since the day she left, she never even came to Schlatt’s funeral. It was weird that her best friend was gone without even a goodbye. But Alanna learned to move on, unlike she did for Schlatt.

“Mom,” Karl greeted as he entered the room, “can I go to my friend’s house?”

Alanna smiles, setting two plates in the cabinet after washing and drying them. “Sure, hon, make sure you’re home before sunset, yeah?”

Karl nodded and headed off. Camille sat at the dinner table, drawing something on a couple of pieces of paper. She hears the front door open then close, Karl has now left the house.

Alanna looks over, “Cami, whatcha drawing?” 

Camille looks up for a moment at her mother who pulled a chair back and took a seat next to her. “A pig,” she answers, and Alanna tilts her head.

“A pig?”

“A pig king!” She exclaims with excitement, and Alanna furrowed her eyebrows. Why was her daughter drawing the king of L’Manberg? Most importantly, how did she know about him? The king of L’Manberg was a long haired, tall pig man with a slim figure and even slimmer compassion for others. He was half pig, half human — and he was very skilled in combat. It was like you had put a ninja in charge of an entire kingdom.

Alanna gulped, “Who’s this, uh, pig king you’re drawing, huh?” She felt uneasy, knowing that her daughter could be drawing the whole responsible for her husband’s death, Camille’s father. She felt a shiver down her spine.

“I don’t know,” and Alanna’s eyes widened, “I just wanted to draw a pig king!” She exclaimed with a large grin on her face.

She was too cute for her own good.

Alanna gives her a cheeky grin, raising her hand to rub her daughter’s head lightly. “Alright, alright, how about we go get dressed?” She picks her daughter up and sets her down on the floor before she stands up herself.

Camille tilts her head in confusion, her eyes wide, “Dressed for what, mama?”

Alanna squeezes her cheek, “We’re gonna go pay someone a visit.”

* * *

**song;** _ one for the road - artic monkeys _

Alanna knocks on the front door of the house that her and Camille stands in front of. It took about a minute for someone to come to the door and open it, which is when Alanna smiles and greets her friend who she was visiting. 

“Alanna,” it was Jade, “what’re you doing here?” She was surprised by the sudden visit by her close friend. Jade was a kind hearted person, very quiet and loving. She was a bit on the overweight side, but Alanna made sure to always hype her best friend up, making sure Jade never felt insecure about the things that made her beautiful.

Alanna clears her throat, “I need to talk to you and Kara,” and she walks past her friend, entering Jade’s wooden cottage-like house. Kara was Alanna’s little sister who lived with Jade, even though she had wanted to move in with her older sister because of the sudden death of her husband, the father of Kara’s niece and nephew.

Kara enters the room with a confused expression, “Sis— what are you doing here?” 

Karl and little Camille ran to Kara excitedly. Karl hugs her waist, and Camille hugs her leg. Kara chuckles awkwardly and she looks up at her older sister.

“I hope they know I don’t like children,” she mouths to Alanna, earning a laugh from her.

Karl and Camille run off outside to the back yard where there was a wooden swing set that Kara and Alanna’s parents had built for them when Alanna was a kid, and that Kara used to play on for her years growing up, as she was only fifteen while Alanna was 12 years older than her. They had a brother in between, but he had left and moved to L’Manberg a few years ago.

Similar to what Erin had done after her brother’s sudden, tragic death.

Kara stands against the wall as Jade sits down on the sofa, then Alanna sits down across from Jade on the chair. Kara crossed her arms, sighing. “What’s going on, Alanna?”

Kara was a much skinnier girl than her sister, more petite and tiny. She was a quiet girl, and she didn’t like people. She wasn’t much like her older sister. She had dark brown hair, almost black, and light brown eyes. She wore thin glasses made of wood and glass, and she wore baggy pants with a tighter though comfortable shirt. 

Alanna gulps, “So, you know about the war?”

Jade shifted her eyes, “Yes.” Jade had lost her mother to the war just a year back, so it was a sensitive topic for her. The war had begun the day of the first attack, and Alanna — she never got over it.

“I want to fight,”

Kara and Jade’s eyes widen.

“You can’t be serious,” said Kara, uncrossing her arms, “You want to fight in the war? Where mom and dad were taken from us?”

Alanna stood up, “Yes, exactly!” and Kara raised her eyebrows, “We all lost someone to the war, and it’s time we finish it for good so no one else has to die.” 

Kara didn’t buy it, “I know you lost Schlatt,” she sighed, “but that doesn’t mean we need to fight in the war. Actually, we should move out of here so we don’t die as well.” She remarked, but Alanna shook her head. Jade sat there in silence, not knowing what to say.

“That’s not going to avenge their deaths, Kara,” said Alanna, “we need to do this. For them, and if you don’t want to, I’m not going to force you. I’ll do it myself—”

“Oh hell you will!” Kara exclaimed, interrupting her sister, catching Alanna off guard, “I’m not going to let you fight on your own, Alanna!”

“Why the hell not?” Alanna said, “I want to fight for him, for our parents, for Jade’s mom, for everyone we’ve lost to this fucking war!” She told her, but Kara ignored her.

“It doesn’t matter. They’re gone, Alanna.” Kara lowered her head, “We have to move on.”

Alanna scoffs, “You don’t get it,” and Kara lifted her head, “The father of my children was murdered, and I have to find who did this to him and make them pay.”

Jade looks up at Alanna who still stood in front of the chair she was previously sitting in. “What’s your plan?” she asked softly.

Alanna looks to Jade, “I plan to go to the castle and convince the king to let me fight, even if he might say no because of the fact that I am a woman, but I hope I can convince him to let me. I’ve been training for the last three years for this, guys, I have to do this now.”

Kara gasped, but she turned away. 

“I’m not going to fight in the war,”

Alanna looks to her sister.

“But, I’ll be there to support you from the castle. I’ll help take care of those devilish children of yours.” She jokes, “But promise me that we won’t lose you, too.” Kara looked up at her sister who stepped over to her and then smiled at her, bringing her into a hug.

“Thank you,” and Kara sighs.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”


	3. The Carriage Ride

**song;** _ helium - glass animals _

Kara sets her bags in the back of the wooden carriage that looks similar to a wooden carriage that pilgrims or other colonziers would use to travel and voyage around in America back when Christopher Columbus first voyage to America, or the ‘New World’ to him.

The kids were already sitting in the back between some boxes, so Kara climbed into the back and sat with them as Jade had already gotten in with them before. Alanna sat at the front, waiting for the guy who was supposed to be directing the horses in the front of the carriage.

“Aye, Jade,” Alanna leaned back and called out.

Jade hums, perking her head up.

“Where’s that, uh,” Alanna snapped her finger a couple times, trying to remember the guy’s name, “brother of yours?” For some odd reason that Alanna could never explain, she had known Jade since they were just toddlers, and yet she had never met her older brother.

Jade shrugs, “He should be on the way now,”

Suddenly the front of the carriage tilted a bit as a hand reached up to the top part, a man was climbing into where Alanna was sitting — meaning it was Jade’s brother — who’s name was—

“Hey,” he turned to Alanna with a smile, “I’m Jade’s brother, Sapnap.” He reached his hand out for Alanna to shake it, but she couldn’t even feel her heartbeat anymore. He was handsome, light facial hair from his jawline to his chin. Brown fluffy hair — just a good looking guy, and his smile — it warmed Alanna’s heart. She hadn’t felt like this since she first met Schlatt.

She . . . hadn’t felt like this in years.

“I’m Alanna,” she smiled back at him. His demeanor shifted to a surprised one, similar to Alanna’s first expression when she saw him for the first time, that damn smile of his for the first time. 

Sapnap chuckled, grabbing the lead rope connected to the two dark colored horses’ halters and jerked it, “Yah!” He exclaims as the horses begin to go, making their way to the castle. 

Kara watched as Jade played with Karl and Camille. Jade was so good with kids, especially Alanna’s kids, but never had any of her own. Kara envied Jade for her weirdly outgoing ways with kids, even if she did hate— well, did not favor— kids herself.

Kara sighs, looking over to see Alanna and Sapnap sitting together on the front part of the carriage. “Your brother,” she said, starting conversation with Jade, “he seems to like her.”

Without looking up from the toys she was playing with Karl and Camille with, Jade said with a monotone voice, “He’s always had a crush on her growing up, he just never officially met her, or even talked to her, until today.”

The younger girl raises her eyebrows, “Huh,” she looks back over to them. It was the smile on Alanna’s face that made Kara smile, too. 

“You know,” Sapnap began to say, “Jade talks about you a lot.”

Alanna glanced over to him, previously looking off to the fields that they passed, daydreaming about God knows what. She never understood why the fields were so large in between the villages and the castle. It made no sense — why was the castle so far away from the villages? It made Alanna confused, she thought it could mean something much more than what it seems on the surface. 

“Really? Does she now?” Alanna chuckles, “That’s a relief. The kids are always asking to come see her,” she tells Sapnap who grins.

“Karl is your son’s name, right? And your daughter is Camille?”

Alanna nodded, “Yeah, they’re little devils, but I love them.” 

Sapnap glanced over to her, relaxing his shoulders with a sigh exiting his agape mouth. 

He clears his throat, “I’m sorry about your husband,” his voice full of pity and somber.

Alanna crosses her legs, placing her hand on top of the other as now her hands sit on her crossed lap. She keeps her posture, though she felt like breaking down at just the mention of him. The man she loved for all her life, and still three years later, she’s still stuck on him like a bee to a flower. 

“You had nothing to do with it,” the woman spoke firmly in reply, “don’t be sorry.”

Sapnap thins his lips, opened his mouth up to speak, but nothing rolled off his tongue. The emotionless expression that portrayed on her beautiful face — it burned Sapnap’s heart. He felt as if he had made the once pleasant conversation convert into a silent, resentful one.

“You do know of the plan, correct?” 

The man turned back to her, “The plan that includes you fighting in the war?” He scoffs, “You really want to do that? You could die, Alanna.” 

Alanna shook her head lightly, “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she muttered, but he heard her as clear as day.

“You’d want to die? You can’t be serious,” said Sapnap with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, “What about your kids?”

“What about them? Kara and Jade have already informed me that if I die, they will take care of them for me, but if I die, I want to die defending my kingdom, even if its lack of security was the reason my husband isn’t here with me and our kids today.”

Sapnap faces the trail in front of him, “I’m sorry if I made you upset,” he glances over for just a split second, “I hope you aren’t angry with me.”

Alanna shakes her head, “No, not at all.”

Sapnap leans back a bit, feeling uneasy. Just the thought of her fighting in the war, possibly being killed, it didn’t sit right with him. He felt uneasy, uncomfortable even. He had just officially met her just moments ago, and possibly, he could lose her as quickly as he met her.

He shook his head, leaving those thoughts behind, even if it followed his every movement. He didn’t want to lose her, he loved her, and has loved her for most of his life, even if he had just met her. It didn’t matter. But if he knew her at all, even from what his younger sister has told him only because he traded things with her to know more about the girl he had fallen for as if it was love at first sight — for him, really. Not her, for what it seemed. But if he knew her at all, he knew she cared much about others and making them smile.

“I heard you were a pretty funny gal,” He noted, and with a smirk, he spoke again, “so tell me a joke, I want to hear if you’re really all that,” his sly, charming voice was strong, and it made Alanna’s heart jump, and it even made her shoulders shiver at the sudden change in his voice. Her knees felt weak, feeling as he was waiting for a joke, told by her.

“Oh, uhm,” she couldn’t speak — why couldn’t she speak? “I usually just say things that are on my mind, usually stupid things that make people laugh. Or, I’ll tease others or make jokes about things they do and get a laugh out of them, only if they like that, that is.”

Sapnap chuckled lightly, “Then say what’s on your mind,” he flirted with sly eyes, and Alanna felt her cheeks turn warm like she was sitting before the fireplace in her home — that Jade had gotten her brother to build for her as a surprise one year. 

It didn’t even cross her mind that Sapnap built it for her, and without a doubt, she knew he did it for free. 

“I don’t have much on my mind,” said the female,  _ except you _ .

Sapnap’s thumb rubs against the lead rope. 

“Nothing?” Sapnap made his voice sound sad, to trick Alanna into telling a joke. He had no bad intentions doing this, and he knew of her pushover personality — that he wished could change so she’ll feel better and stand up for herself more — at least more than what she was doing now. 

Alanna shuffled in her seat, “I mean, I thought I saw a two legged cow just now and I thought if he only had 50% of his legs, is the milk only 50% good?”

Suddenly Sapnap burst out laughing, and just hearing his laugh, even if he was roaring with it, it made her feel better. It made her feel happy.

“Wow, I,” he exhales, “That definitely took me off guard,” he comments.

Alanna giggles, “I’m glad it made you laugh though.”

And Sapnap chuckles, turning back to face the trail before him.

* * *

**song;** _ knee socks - artic monkeys _

“Here we are,”

Sapnap got off the carriage and walked over to the other side, reaching his hand up so Alanna could grab it and carefully get down from the carriage as well. Jade and Kara got out from the back of the carriage with the children. Sapnap headed over to one of the guards, whispering something distinctively to them before walking back over to Alanna and the others.

“Should we,” Alanna pauses for a moment, “head inside?” She points to the two large, about 10 feet tall double doors to the throne room of the castle. She could feel her skin crawling underneath her white, long sleeve shirt that she wore under a thin, nice jacket.

Sapnap gently grabbed her hand, but Kara watched with narrow eyes. She didn’t like Sapnap much, and she definitely did not favor how close he was suddenly becoming with her older sister, a single mother who’s about to fight in the  _ fucking _ war.

The male led Alanna and the others into the throne room where they were quickly introduced to the King, his wife, and the King’s right hand man.

Sapnap got onto one knee and bowed, and the other four followed, though it took a minute for Camille to do it, but the King did not care — he found it cute.

Sapnap stood back up, his hands behind his back. “Sir, I bring to you my sister and her friends,” he gestures to Jade and the others standing near her.

The King’s right hand man leans over to the King, “She’s friends with children?” he whispers with his hand covering his mouth. The King laughs, and turns back to them.

“Why do you come here?” He asked a bit sternly.

Alanna steps forward, clearing her throat. “Your majesty, I hope you remember who I am,” she said to him formally, “My name is Alanna, I am a civilian of the North Village.” She shudders for a moment, closing her eyes for a moment to intake a deep breath, “I am the widow of Retired Army General Schlatt.”

The King’s eyes widen, and his wife looks up from her lap. The right hand man sits there with a scoff.

“Three years ago, he was killed in an attack from L’Manberg, and as the war worsens between the two kingdoms, I want to fight and help along your side to end this, and get back what all we lost in those attacks.” Alanna explains, and the King shortly nods.

“I see,” said the King, humming gently, “but you are a woman, Miss, let alone a single mother of two. I can not simply let you fight in the war.”

“But King Dream,” Alanna raised her voice a bit, “You must understand. My husband was targeted, and so were the other non survivors. We have to do something, sir. Please,” she begged, stepping towards his throne, but still stood a bit far away from him, “Please let me fight.”

King Dream turns to his right hand man, who’s name was George, “What do you think, Sir George?” He cocked his eyebrow at him, and Dream’s wife looked over before turning away once again.

George hums, “Well, if she wants to fight,” he looked at the woman, “then let her fight.”

King Dream nods his head, standing up from his large, golden and red cushioned throne, his hands on his hips as his long green cape fell from his shoulders to the floor, resting on his arms. “Miss,” he began to say, “I guess you will be fighting along with us,” he said with a chortle, “meet me here in the throne room tomorrow and we’ll plan out what we will do in the first battle.”

King Dream and George soon left the room out of the large threshold in the far left corner of the room. His wife sat there in her own throne for a moment, sighing as she stood up. She walks over to Alanna and meets her eyes.

Silent and confused, Alanna stares back.

King Dream’s wife, the queen, stood there in silence as well, but she raised her hand hesitantly and placed her palm against the shorter woman’s warm, but pale cheek. 

“I knew your husband,” she spoke quietly, her eyes lowered to look at Alanna up and down before meeting eyes with the shorter woman once again, “he wasn’t like us.”

And as slowly as she approached her, the queen took her hand off of Alanna’s cheek and headed off in the direction her husband and his right hand man had left.

Alanna stood there, bewildered and surprised by the sudden action by the queen, and Sapnap walked up to her from behind, placing his hand on her back gently as Jade approached as well and did the same.

“Alanna,” whispered Jade though Sapnap could still hear her, too, “what was that about?”

The taller female stares at the threshold that the queen and the king and his right hand man had exited the throne room from, “No idea.” She replied. 

Sapnap frowned, looking off somewhere else in the room. She was going to fight in the war, he was too late to stop her, even if he didn’t really try in the first place. But the thought of her fighting, it worried him terribly. What if she didn’t make it? What if she dies?

He shivered just thinking about it, but Alanna felt it from the palm of his hand still sitting against the arch of her back, so she turned.

“Are you okay?”

Her voice was sweet, like caramel.

“I’m,” he took in a quick breath, “I’m fine. How about I show you where you all will be staying?” And with his hand still on Alanna’s back, he slightly pushes her forward gently, leading her and the rest of them to the corridors where they will be staying during the nights after planning and training during the days.

Sapnap still felt bad for letting the girl he loved fight in this terrible, deadly war between the two kingdoms, but he knew Alanna was stubborn. She won’t back down without a fight, even if it meant life and death with her own life. 


	4. L’Manberg’s Plan

**song;** _sleep alone - two door cinema club_

“No, Tommy — it will work! It did last time!”

“You almost killed our own civilians last time!” Tommy shouted at the older male, “We cannot do this, Wilbur!” but the tall brunette ignored the blonde boy’s concerns. Wilbur walked out of the room, but Tommy followed closely behind him. Wilbur grabbed a glass and poured tea into it from the pitcher, but Tommy grabbed his sleeve. “Why aren’t you listening to me?”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his cup of tea. 

Tommy grunts, leaning forward so Wilbur could see his face properly as they stood next to each other, even though Wilbur was trying to ignore the younger boy. “Will you just stop being an arsehole and just listen to me?” He raises his voice at Wilbur, but no response. He grabs the older boy’s collar and pulls him to face him, causing Wilbur to drop his cup of tea, the mug breaking into pieces as the tea spilled everywhere on the floor. 

“What the hell, Tommy—”

“Just fucking listen to me, Wilbur!” Tommy shouts, and the door to the kitchen slams open suddenly, causing the two brothers to jump slightly at the sudden slam. 

There stood their father and younger brother standing there at the now opened door of the kitchen, their father’s hand stayed placed on the large spruce door. 

“What’s going on in here?” Philza shouts at them, “Are you two really trying to kill each other in the kitchen?” the fury in his face made Tommy shiver, but Wilbur stood there calmly with a relaxed face and narrow eyes. His fist clenched as he stared at his father.

“We were only having a disagreement, father,” said Wilbur as Tommy kept his grip on his older brother’s shirt, “Forgive us for the noise,” the formality in his tone, the words rolling off his tongue, it made Philza, his father, let out a sigh and lower his head, taking his hand off the door and placing both of his hands on hips, standing like an exhausted father — which he was.

Tommy lets go of his brother’s shirt, growling at him like some dog.

Wilbur laughed, “Damn, mutt,” he muttered to his brother. Tommy let out a gasp, furrowing his eyebrows at his older brother, who he pretty much despised, offended that he had the audacity to call him a mutt just because he growled from how angry he was. Wilbur slid his hands into his pockets before turning to face his father on the other side of the counter table between them, “We disagreed on the war plan,” said Wilbur, “though it’s supposed to be only my job to plan out what we will do in this war,” his eyes slid and looked at Tommy from the corner of his eye, and just looking back at him, Tommy felt scared. He was always scared of Wilbur. 

Not necessarily what he looked like, no. Wilbur looked more like a soft boy with his curly brown hair and soft eyes, smooth skin and tall figure, and his normal outfits consisted of mainly sweaters and just pants, but his mind, how quick those soft eyes of his can change into ones full of murder and death. Tommy never really knew what was going on inside his brother’s head, but frankly, he didn’t want to ever know. If he wasn’t the general, and his brother, Tommy had a feeling Wilbur would be a psychopath, a killer — a murderer.

Ever since the first attack on Pogtopia, Tommy’s felt more distant from his family, knowing how his true hero died in his own house that day. Schlatt, the retired, now deceased, general of Pogtopia was one of Tommy’s mentors that he was the apprentice of for about two years. Schlatt was one of the only people that Tommy had ever looked up to. But there was this sickening feeling in his stomach that made him so nauseous just thinking about it.

He had a theory — Tommy looked over to his father, “We’re fine, father. Sorry,” he bowed slightly and Wilbur began to walk off, but he watched closely — that his own brother, the one that looked like an innocent person who wants to protect everyone, may have killed Schlatt.

* * *

**song;** _ sparks - coldplay _

A day has passed since Alanna and her family had arrived at the castle. It was such a far, long way from their homes in the new North Village, but that didn’t really bother Alanna much. She had her family with her, there was nothing to worry about. Except the upcoming war.

For the first time in a long time, Alanna was actually worried about dying. She wasn’t afraid of dying while she trained for three years, she wasn’t afraid of dying her entire life. But suddenly, she was. She was afraid of leaving her children, her sister, her friends, everyone behind just so she could avenge the death of her husband who she dearly loved more than anything in the entire world. 

She sat at the window, watching the grey clouds pass by above the fields, and the villages that she could faintly see in the distance from the fog covering most of it. She sighed, her cheek propped up against the palm of her hand as she sat there, and it suddenly began to rain. No surprise to her, but it just made her sigh once again.

Sapnap paced by the open door to the study where Dream and Alanna had already began to plan what they will do in the war, but now Dream was off taking care of royal business as Alanna sat alone at the window, watching in the garden, her two kids ran around with joy as Jade watched them and payed attention to them, even if it was sprinkling rain now. 

He stopped once he caught the glimpse of her in the corner of his eye. He let out a quiet, “Huh?” before entering the room silently, not even a noise coming from him, though he knew it would most likely frighten the girl, as she was a bit skittish to sudden noises. So then he made his footsteps known, but she didn’t even give him a glance. “Alanna,” he gently calls out her name, but she stays still. She was a statue.

He stepped towards her, and sat in front of her on the windowsill. He had one leg bent, his foot facing the right as he leaned his left side against the window, staring into her eyes that looked off somewhere else, which really was the garden through the window.

He swallows harshly. “Lana,”

Suddenly she turned to him with this wide eyes, white surrounded her small, circular brown pools in those eyes of hers — she looked like some scary figurine staring at him. 

_ “Lana,”  _

_ Alanna perks her head up with a smile, hearing the familiar voice ring throughout the room. Her eyes crinkle at the sight of him, “Hi, hon,” she greets him as he sits down next to her on the sofa, kissing her gently before grabbing the newspaper off the coffee table in front of them. “Karl’s passed out,” Schlatt began to say as he unfolded the newspaper so he could read on the latest news in the village, like the basic dad would. _

_ “Good,” his wife said, turning the page in her book. Karl had spent almost the entire day at the neighbor’s, playing with their slightly older son who seemed to be more formal and royal like, which it wasn’t a surprise when Alanna found out that it was King Dream’s son who had grown so close with her son Karl, though they departed just a week prior to the first attack. _

_ Schlatt looked over to her, “How’s the baby?” he asked, referring to her large baby bump that made her arch her back a lot. She was maybe two weeks til she goes into labor and gives birth to their future daughter, Camille. _

_ Alanna chuckled, “Thankfully he’s not kicking anymore,’ she said, referring to the baby as a boy since she wanted a boy, even though she ended up with a loving daughter that she has now. “I’m sure you had a good day at the castle, right?” He was still in uniform, which meant he had just gotten home from the castle and went up to see Karl, only to find him passed out on his floor after playing with his toys. Schlatt had covered him up with his blanket and blew out the torch before closing the door quietly and headed back downstairs where his wife sat in the living room. _

_ This was obviously before Schlatt’s injury and his retirement.  _

_ Maybe three weeks before it all happened — it happened a week after Camille was born, which was about four months before the first attack.  _

_ When Schlatt . . . yeah. _

_ “Damn,” Alanna let out a sudden pained laugh, holding her thumb against the page, closing her book so she wouldn’t lose her spot, “I spoke too soon.” _

_ Schlatt looked down at her stomach, then back at her, “He’s kicking?”  _

_ His wife nods, and Schlatt shifts in his spot, laying down on the couch on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows as he faces the large baby bump. He clears his throat. _

_ “Hey there, pal,” Schlatt greeted the fetus, “I’m glad you’re excited that Daddy’s home, but that doesn’t mean you should kick Mommy, ‘kay?” His voice was soothing, it calmed the baby so quickly, but he kept on, “Sleep tight, champ.” He reached his hand over and rubbed the baby bump gently before he sat up against and wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. _

_ She leans her head on her husband’s shoulder, “I’m hoping that you’ll get matching timberlands for this baby, too, Schlatt,” Alanna teases, causing Schlatt to roar with laughter.  _

_ About a year ago, Schlatt had gotten Karl timberlands so they could match. It was simple, and Schlatt was really happy about it. He never stopped wearing his timberlands, and soon, Karl didn’t either. _

_ “Aw, I will, baby,” Schlatt kisses his wife’s forehead gently, “we’ll be the Timberland Family,” he joked, earning a laugh from Alanna, but he meant it. _

_ He really meant it. _

  
  


“Alanna?”

The girl blinked at him frequently, shaking out of her thoughts. “Sorry, I spaced out.” 

Sapnap sat his hands on his lap, “You okay?” He tilts his head at her, but Alanna shifts her eyes.

“I’m just a bit worried,” she said, moving her seat on the windowsill, now her back faces the window, “What if I die in the war, Sapnap?”

“You won’t,” said Sapnap, almost confidently.

Alanna let out a laugh, “How are you so sure?”

“Because I’ll protect you,” 

The female turned to him slowly.

“I want to protect you, a-and I will. I’m not afraid to stand up against death for you, Alanna,” she could feel her heart beating so much faster, “so let me.”

He held her hand, gently with his thumb rubbing against the back of her hand, staring into her chocolate eyes, and with his other hand, he raised it and placed it against her cheek, such a gentle touch. 

Alanna’s cheeks heat up, and so do Sapnap’s. Faces inching closer slowly, Alanna hitched her breath and squeezed his hand, letting him know that this was alright, and so Sapnap continued to lean in to the point their jaws were slightly agape, tilting their heads to kiss, but then a knock echoed throughout the room.

Sapnap pulled away almost immediately, and turned to the open door to the study where the two were, “King Dream,” he greeted with a slight bow, “we were just talking about the war,” he stood up and walked over to the King, leaving Alanna to sit there on the windowsill alone again.

King Dream nods his head, walking with his long, golden cane with its large emerald gem at the top, reflecting against the grey light from the window. 

“Have you heard the news?” King Dream asks, and Sapnap watches him approach Alanna, “L’Manberg is planning their first attack now —do you have an idea of what we should do?” He questions, raising his eyebrow at her, though she could not see it from his white, circular mask he wore over his face. George stood against the threshold, his arms crossed, one leg crossed in front of the other, listening in to the conversation between the King and the widow.

“I say,” Alanna lets out a sigh, “I say we train our guards as much as we can, get more shields, weapons, but also we should evacuate our citizens to somewhere safe.”

King Dream smiled at her, but behind his mask, it was full of this energy she couldn’t recognize. It felt wrong, but before she gave it much thought, King Dream nodded and turned away. “Thank you,” he spoke, “that is all. See you at dinner tonight.” And with that, King Dream and George exited the room. 

Sapnap looks down to the floor underneath his shoes, the light reflecting on it brightly. But, as he looked up, everything felt colorless — except her.

“You alright there?” Sapnap called out to her, and she turned to him.

She smiled, though it seemed fake, “I’m fine.” 

She wasn’t.

* * *

  
  


**song;** _ sparks - coldplay _

_ (continued) _

“I do not understand why you’d even want to change the plan, Tommy.”

The blonde son makes an offended noise, then he points to the direction of Wilbur’s study which was the room next to the kitchen. “That plan of his could kill hundreds, father.” 

Philza sighs, tipping his hat down a bit. 

“It might even kill us, too,” Tommy warned his father, “Why aren’t you listening to me? W-We could die, father!” He exclaims at him.

“Son,” Philza placed his hand on his son’s shoulder, “believe me, I wish things were different, but we have to go with Wilbur’s plan this time. It’s the only way we can finally live in peace with no war, even if that may mean no longer living in this world.”

Tommy’s jaw drops, “You can’t be serious,” he scoffed, shaking his head and he turned to walk past his father and leave the room, but his father’s wings spread out and stopped him.

“Tommy, please,” Philza whispered, “just give this a chance, okay?”

The blonde son turns to his father. He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to let Wilbur manipulate any more people into letting him use this deadly plan. His brother was mentally ill, he could tell that from a mile away, he’s known that for so many years now. But the others don’t, and he was sure that even their own father didn’t realize it either, and hopefully their little brother, who was barely around as he was taken under the King’s wing and made a prince, didn’t know either. But, just knowing Wilbur could kill everyone in both kingdoms with just a single step in his plan frightened him to his core. 

He couldn’t let this happen. But he had to go along with it. For now.

Tommy nodded, sighing. “Fine,” and Philza smiled at him, his wings folding in closer to his back so Tommy could now walk past him and leave the room. Tommy did, and Philza turned and watched him closely. He was worried about Tommy, but his words — they made him even more worried for Wilbur.

* * *

**song;** _ stargazing - the neighborhood  _

Kara sits on the bench in the garden as Jade has gone inside to get a drink of water. The kids were playing tag near the roses. It had stopped raining, and the air felt warm, but it wasn’t humid.

Her hands sat in her lap, her thighs pressed together as she watched the kids run around the tulips and the daisies. She let out a gentle huff, lowering her previously tensed up shoulders. 

Karl picked up his sister and spun her around happily, cheering that he caught her. Kara let out a sigh. She never had a sibling who would do that, let alone a brother. By the time she was five, her and Alanna’s brother moved to their uncle’s in L’Manberg. She hadn’t seen him for so long, she missed him, but had no idea how much he'd changed since the last time she saw him, the last time she spoke to him.

“Hi,”

Kara looked up and turned her head to the left where she heard the voice. There was a shortish male standing there, a sharp, dark blue suit covered in gold and silver. A silver crown sat upon his jetblack hair, it was decorated with navy and crimson jewels. 

The voice was calm, a bit high, but he spoke in such a quiet voice that it sounded a bit deep. The girl’s eyes widened in surprise — surprise that such a cute boy was standing there, saying hi to her. 

“Hi,” Kara greeted back.

He bows to her, though he looked of so much importance instead of Kara, the girl from the village.

The boy didn’t look more than 16 years old, and he seemed nice . . . enough. He looked more intimidating than nice, but he didn’t look like a jerk.

He just seemed intimidating.

“My name is Quackity,” he gives her a grin, “I’m the Prince of Pogtopia,” and that’s when Kara turned away. He was the fucking prince — she honestly should’ve known by how he was dressed — and the crown on his head. 

“Quackity?” She repeated, “That’s your name?”

He bursts out laughing, though Kara would never admit that she liked his laugh, and he held his stomach for a moment before wiping a single tear.

“My real name is Alex, but I go by Quackity to protect my identity. Same goes for Sapnap, who’s real name is actually Nick, and the King is—”

“Your father, right?” Kara cut him off.

Quackity nods his head, “Yeah, though the queen isn’t my real mother. I was actually born out of wedlock, and my biological mother died at childbirth so I just ended up calling the Queen my mother.”

He seemed to be very open about his life, which wasn’t something Kara was ever known for. 

“Ah,” she gave him a short nod, not sure how to exactly reply, “I lost both of my parents a couple years back,” Kara admitted —  _ why are you saying this!? _ — She mentally facepalmed. “I moved in with Jade and I’ve lived with her ever since.”

Quackity took a seat next to her on the bench, and he fixed his crown a bit that became crooked on his head for a moment when he sat down.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said comfortingly to her, “I know I didn’t grow up with her, but sometimes I wish I had my biological mother instead. I would spend the summers and fall at my grandmother’s who lived in the village.” 

Kara tilted her head, “You lived in the village?” 

“Yes,” he nodded, “in the North Village.”

That’s — she gasped — where Alanna lived.

“Really? My sister lives there,” 

Quackity’s face glows, “Wait, really? — That’s so cool!” then he goes quiet for a couple moments, “Actually, I think I might’ve met her before,”

Kara raises her eyebrow, “Wait what—”

“Alex?”

Quackity and Kara both turn to the voice of little Karl who stood there with his little round horns pointing out. They’ve grown maybe three inches since the day they first began to grow in, the day before Schlatt died.

Camille stood behind her brother, hiding from the new guy who sat next to their aunt. She was a shy little girl, unlike Karl, who was as outgoing as can be. 

Quackity’s eyes widen, “Karl?”

Kara’s eyes widened even larger than before, “You two know each other?” Kara questioned.

Karl stepped closer, and Camille stayed close. The boy began to nod his head, “Yes, he was the boy I always played with. The neighbor boy.”

Kara raised her eyebrows, “You’re kidding.”

Quackity laughs, shaking his head, “No, it’s completely true! How long has it been, little guy?” He high fived the boy and brought him into a hug, patting his back, “Man, I’m sorry for leaving so quickly. My dad wanted me back at the castle,”

Karl’s jaw dropped, “You  _ live _ here?”

“Heck yeah,” Quackity said, “and hey! That makes you a friend of the royal family, so you and your family can visit whenever you’d like!” 

Kara listened in to their conversation, staying quiet and being polite. But just watching how optimistic Quackity was, knowing that he was only 16 as Karl had spoken before about him, saying he was five years older than him, and well, Karl’s eleven now. Which makes Quackity sixteen, just a year older than Kara.

Just seeing his face, it made her feel happy.

He was making her happy.  _ Why _ was he making her happy?  _ Why _ was she falling for a boy she  _ just _ met? And  _ why _ didn’t she want to stop herself?


	5. Glowing Fountain

**song;** _dreamland - glass animals_

Alanna fixes up her bed, even though she knew the maids would do that for her later. It was early that morning, the sun had barely risen from beyond the hills. It was maybe 5am now, and she was already dressed and ready for the day.

The war had begun, and without a doubt, Sapnap knocked on the door and entered her room. She sighed, knowing exactly what he was about to do.

It had been a week since they began staying at the castle, everyday Alanna and Sapnap had grown closer, and the same went for Quackity and Kara. 

It was now the day when the war had officially started, meaning Alanna will be fighting soon. Sapnap was worried about her, and the possibility of losing her.

“Nick, I know what you’re going to say—”

“You best know what I’m about to say,” Sapnap interrupted her, walking over to her as she sat down at her desk, “I don’t want you fighting in the first battle.”

Alanna was taken back, and she spun her chair around with a confused expression on her face. 

“Wait— what?”

Sapnap sighed, “I want you to stay back for the first battle. I want you to stay with King Dream and finish planning, and then when the next battle begins, you can fight all you want.”

She stood up and stared at him with her hands on her hips, then she raised her hands and placed them on the sides of his head, causing his cheeks to heat up — _was she about to kiss me?_

But she forcefully pulls his head down and looks around on his head, “I don’t see any bruises or bumps — did you hit your head?”

“Why would you think,” he lifted his head and looked down at her (slightly), “that I hit my head?”

Alanna shrugs, “Maybe because you’re not telling me to not fight in the war. Instead, you’re just telling me not to fight in the first battle so I can figure out how I’ll fight in the next battles.” 

Sapnap stared at her, “Is that bad or?”

The woman turns away and walks over to her bags that sat on the windowsill. “No, not precisely.” said Alanna as she unzipped her bag. “But it is a big surprise that you’re actually okay with me fighting now.” 

The man scoffs, “Who said I was okay with you fighting?” and Alanna rolled her eyes. 

Sapnap huffed and walked over to her.

“Look,” said Sapnap with his hands out, “I do care about you and I want you to be safe,” he told the widow, “but you want to fight, so I’m respecting your decision, but I’m taking precautions as well.”

Alanna narrows her eyes, “So, a compromise?”

Sapnap nods his head.

Alanna sighs, “Fine, but let me give you something first before you go,” she then turns to her bags, searching through one before pulling a thin bandana out. She turns to Sapnap and holds the bandana out to show him.

He stares at it. It was a thin white bandana with his name sewn on it in black yarn. 

She takes it and gestures for him to bend down a bit, so he obliges and she wraps the bandana around his head before she walks behind him, still holding the bandana in place, before tying it nicely in the back.

Sapnap turns back around to face her, and he grabs her hand with a sly smirk, “Thank you,” he whispers before raising her hand and kissing the back of it gently. Her cheeks turn as red as a tomato.

She giggles, “Go get ready for battle, Nick,” she shoved her lightly, and he laughs. He bows with a nod and leaves the room, though he never left her mind.

* * *

**song;** _thinking of you - smoothboi ezra_

“Would you stop pestering me, big brother?”

King Techno laughed at his younger sister’s flustered reaction to his teasing, “Oh, why should I, Chrisalyn? — You’ve got a crush!”

Chrisalyn growls at him, “Will you shut it!” she hisses at her brother before crossing her arms, leaning her back against the cushioned back of her throne that sat next to her brother’s, the King’s.

King Techno chuckles, flipping his long pink hair that was tied into a gentle ponytail-braid. “You like a good fella, you know,” said King Techno, “he is the leader of the royal guard so he knows how to protect you — at least.” He shrugged.

His sister gave him a dirty look. “God, I hate you.” She muttered under her breath.

King Techno glances to the throne room entrance door that had just then been opened. He cackles, tapping his sister’s shoulder. 

“Oh, what a surprise,” King Techno remarks, and he stands up from his thrones. “Will you keep me sister, company?” He asked the man, then he cleared his throat, “I must run an errand,” and he headed out of the room, his long red cape flying in the air from his shoulders. 

The tall boy walks over and sits down on King Techno’s throne, and she shivers with anxiety. She was normally a very quiet and collected girl, calm and she never raised her voice (unless her older brother Techno was involved, then yes, she would raise her voice). 

The tall boy was the leader of the royal guard, about 6’6 and his skin was both jet black and pure white. Some call him “Half-and-Half,” as the entire left side of him is pure white with a red eye as the entire right side is jet black with a purple eye, indicating that he was, in fact, half enderman, though others aren’t sure what the other half was. 

He’s pretty open about how his body is different from others, as he has no eyelids and his white side oozes lime green blood when he hurts himself on his left side. His right side is just about the same as an Enderman. He dislikes water and eye contact (since he can’t blink or close his eyes at all), and can only swim in water when wearing full amor. 

“Ranboo,” Chrisalyn greeted him, “I didn’t know you’d be here today. Aren’t you supposed to be preparing for the first battle? It begins at sunset.” She made sure to sound formal when speaking in the throne room, or at least with others around, which now consisted only of maids and guards. She also made sure to look the other way, as she knew Ranboo hated being stared at.

He crossed one leg over to the other, “I just wanted to come see you,” 

Ironic how he wasn’t even looking at her. 

Chrisalyn shifted in her seat. The night before, when she realized that she was in love with Half-and-Half, she said something so bad that she knew it could make him upset, but she had to ask now. She had to.

“You’ve said before that you’ve forgotten faces,” Chrisalyn began to say to the royal guard leader, “so how have you not forgotten mine?”

Ranboo furrowed his eyebrows, “Why would you think that?”

Chrisalyn turned away, “You have a short-term memory, and you barely remember anything. How have you not forgotten my face? Or just me all together?”

“You can’t be serious,” said Ranboo, “you have to be joking.”

“I’m not,” Chrisalyn said quietly, “I just wanted to know,” her voice began to break a bit, hiccuping as she kept in her tears. 

Ranboo stood up quickly and kneeled down on one knee in front of her, leaning close to her face as his different colored hands were placed on both sides of her face. Straight eye contact between the two, Chrisalyn’s eyes began to dance as her body started to shake with anxiety. “I thought you didn’t like eye contact,” said Chrisalyn.

Ranboo ignored her words to only bring her into a passionate kiss, holding the back of her head with one hand as the other hand stroked her jawline, his thumb rubbing against her soft cheek. Even though her eyes were now shut, Ranboo’s weren’t, but he made sure to only admire her face, the way she looked so ethereal as their lips moved against each other’s. The kiss felt like Heaven, like an accomplishment in a way. He felt happy he finally kissed the girl he’s loved for a year, but he’s glad she’s kissing back, and that she possibly loves him back.

For Chrisalyn, this kiss felt like a summer day. The warmth of the sun as its rays shine on her bare skin as she wore a bathing suit, swimming in the lake near the castle on a warm evening as her brother Techno would sunbathe and sleep on some foldable lounging chair.

But for the both of them, they felt sparks — fireworks going off inside of their bodies. It felt new, so real, so addicting.

Ranboo pulled away slowly, almost hesitantly. He didn’t want to stop kissing her. Ranboo let out a large breath, but then Chrisalyn spoke.

“I’m in love with you,” she quickly confessed, and Ranboo’s multicolored eyes widened.

But he eases up and gives her a smile before he pecks her lips gently.

“Right back at ya’, sweetheart.”

And Chrisalyn smiled back.

* * *

**song;** _neon moon - cigarettes after sex_

Alanna sits with Jade in the dining hall as Kara and Prince Quackity hang out somewhere in the castle. They were eating lunch as they talked about random topics. The first battle had begun in the west field to the Pogtopia Kingdom about an hour prior, and Alanna was excessively worried about its outcome, as she was scared Sapnap would get hurt.

To calm her, Jade comforted her and tried to distract her. 

“I’m so worried, Jade,” said Alanna as she rubbed her face with her hands, “what if we lose him? Just because I decided to listen to him?”

Jade shakes her head, “My brother is strong, Alanna,” she reminded her friend, “he won’t go down without a fight, and he definitely won’t go down without telling you how much you mean to him first,” but then she slapped her hand over her mouth, realizing she had said too much.

Alanna tilts her head, “Wait, repeat that?” She requests, but Jade shakes her head, clearing her throat after taking a large sip of her water.

“O-Oh, n-nothing,” she flailed her hands around, “it’s nothing,”

Alanna gave her a suspicious look, but shrugged it off and continued to eat her lunch.

After they had both finished their lunch, the Queen entered the room with a deep stare at Alanna, which prompted the widow to turn to her and ask, “Yes, your majesty? Do you need something?” 

The Queen nodded, “I need to speak with you,” she said, “now.” 

Alanna stands up from her seat, whispering, “I’ll be right back,” to Jade before exiting the room with the Queen.

The Queen, King Dream’s wife, was a tall woman, dark brown hair and a chubby figure, though she kept herself fit and pretty. She was pretty, but she looked intimidating. Quackity must’ve learned that from her, even if she wasn’t his real biological mother.

Her name was Jorja, and she was very fair and equal. She helped the poor and the minorities constantly, even though her husband did not really care for such people. He only cared about the money, and his son. She was sure her husband no longer loved her, but she kept her composure and presented herself as strong. 

“So, your majesty,” Alanna began to say as the two walked together down the empty corridors of the castle, “what did you need to speak with me about?”

Queen Jorja kept her hands together, her heels clicking and clacking on the white tiled floor, her dress dragging, but the floor was spotless. She had no worry about ruining it.

“You remember what I said to you the day you came to the castle,” her eyes slid and looked at Alanna from the corner of her eyes, “correct?”

Alanna nodded shortly, “Y-Yes,” 

_“I knew your husband,” she spoke quietly, her eyes lowered to look at Alanna up and down before meeting eyes with the shorter woman once again, “he wasn’t like us.”_

“I remember,” Alanna straightened her posture.

Queen Jorja shifted her eyes, watching the walls pass by them as they continued to walk through the castle’s corridors. “There is something only I and the people involved know about your husband, Miss Alanna,” she spoke formally to the widow, “and I’m not sure I should be the one to tell you this . . .” she struggled to find the word, “. . . awful truth about Sir J.”

J. Schlatt was Alanna’s husband’s name, but he went by Schlatt as he hated his real name, but Alanna worried that what she was about to find out about her deceased husband. 

“What is it?” Alanna stops dead in her tracks, staring at the queen, “What was he?”

Queen Jorja stopped walking as she continued to face forward, her hands still grasped together. “Did you ever question those horns of his, Miss?”

An odd question, but Alanna still responded to the Queen. 

“Maybe once or twice,” she answered honestly. She felt eerie about this, this entire situation, this conversation with the Queen of Pogtopia. The calmness of Jorja caused Alanna’s anxiety to spike, and her tone created tears forming in the corners of her chocolate eyes.

“And have you ever questioned who you are?” Queen Jorja asked, “How you look nothing like your sister?” Queen Jorja slightly cocked her head to the right, showing a part of her face to Alanna now. She felt her heart beating hard and quick in her chest.

_“How come you look nothing like me, huh?” Kara once asked a few years before, “You’re so different from me. It’s weird.” but that just made Alanna laugh. At that time, she didn’t think it meant anything. Why would she?_

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Miss, but,” Queen Jorja turned to her, “You are something rare that none of us had ever seen before. My husband was quick to let you fight in the war, once he saw that look in your eyes. That look of sorrow yet justice. Your parents, I know they’re gone now, but they would have never understood what you are,” she smirked, “and what you can become,”

Alanna lowered her head, “What’re you saying?” she whispered.

“Unfortunately, your deceased husband is the son of Lucifer,” said Queen Jorja, looking down at the floor as she gulped, “but you,” she smirked again, raising her head up, “you’re different.”

Alanna felt her heart drop.

“Alanna,” Queen Jorja stood proudly as she faced the widow with a curving smirk on her lips, one eyebrow cocking up, “you are the daughter of a White Wither.”

The widow gasped, her hand flew to her mouth. “You— no, that’s—”

Queen Jorja sighed, “I know White Withers are only a myth, but you are half human, half White Wither. Your mother was one, and your father was human, while your brother was Half Enderman and—”

“Half White Wither,” Alanna finished the Queen’s sentence, “and my husband—”

“Yes,” Queen Jorja cleared her throat, feeling suddenly uncomfortable, “Schlatt is different from you, but he’s different from everyone, and so is that L’Manberg general.” Her voice began raspy at those last couple words — Who, and what, was the L’Manberg general? “Like I said, he’s the son of Lucifer. Those large horns of his are from goats. I wouldn’t see you as someone who’d marry a Goat Man, and then I knew — he was the Devil’s son.”

Alanna furrows her eyebrows, “Are you saying my husband was . . . _evil_?”

“Yes, and no,” Queen Jorja admitted, “Schlatt was a good person on the outside, for you and the kids, but there are so many secrets he had yet to tell you, darling,” she began to walk past Alanna, pressing her hand against the widow’s cheek, “Good luck in the war.” 

Queen Jorja then walked off, her footsteps echoing and receding throughout the corridor before she turned the corner and then the footsteps seemed to cease. Alanna clenched her fist, staring at the floor, trying to process everything. Her deceased husband was the Devil’s son, and he was targeted and murdered. Everything was coming together. 

But, what else was Schlatt hiding?

* * *

**song;** _habit - seventeen_

“Alex— what’re we doing here?” 

Quackity held Kara’s hand, leading her throughout the streets of a village in L’Manberg after sneaking in. The prince had something he wanted to show the village girl, and this was the only way he could show her. They hide behind corners of buildings and stores, crawling underneath tables and running through dim alley’s. They felt like criminals, outlaws on the run.

They were laughing and smiling, holding hands as they ran and ran, trying not to get caught by any guards who might recognize Quackity’s face, as he was the Prince of Pogtopia. 

“I have something to show you,” said Quackity in a hushed voice, “we’re almost there.”

They turn left about three more times before approaching a large empty area in the village where a single fountain sat with no other entrances. It was a lonely fountain, but it glowed with fireflies and lanterns as the brick walls were covered in green vines and white flowers.

“Wow,” Kara’s jaw dropped, walking around the fountain, exploring the secluded area, not letting go of the boy’s hand, “this place is so magical. Why’d you bring me here?”

Quackity’s smile falls, and so does Kara’s.

“My parents want to plan an arranged marriage,” he sits down on the edge of the fountain, and so does Kara, still holding onto the boy’s firm but soft hand, “and I don’t want that.”

Kara tilted her head, “Don’t you want to be ready to be the next King? You must have a Queen in order to be King and continue your royal bloodline,” she seemed to know too much about the ways of the Royal, even if she was just some poor village girl. Such a cliche.

Quackity grunts, “But I don’t want some princess,” he told the girl, “I want you.”

Kara leans back a bit in surprise, “You . . . _what_?”

The boy hitches his breath, “I really like you, and I know we’ve only known each other for a week, but I don’t want to marry some princess who I don’t know. I want to . . . marry you and be with you,” 

Kara thinned her lips. Her sister had gotten married at the same age as Kara is now, and as much as that worried her, she felt the same way for the prince, as cliche as that may sound.

Quackity tightened his grip on her hand, “So what do you say—”

There is suddenly a faint talking, getting louder and louder, from the entrance. Kara, without hesitation, takes off her jacket and puts it on Quackity, putting the hood over his head so his face wouldn’t be seen as they were in the village that they weren’t welcome in, and grabbed the collar of the jacket, pulling him into a forceful, collision of their kiss. Quackity’s eyes stay wide as Kara’s are glued shut, kissing him passionately for a few moments before the boy began to kiss back, raising his hands and holding her arms gently.

The two men entered the secluded area, and once they noticed the two teenagers kissing, they turned away. “Oh! I apologize for this sudden intrusion,” said one of the guards, and the two teenagers pulled away from each other. Kara turned to them as Quackity continued to stare at the girl, lovestruck. “We have a missing person that we are looking for,” he shows Kara a photo of a woman, “have you seen her?”

Kara shakes her head, “No, sir, I’m sorry,” she replies innocently.

The guard nods, “It’s okay, have a nice night, you two.” and the guard left with the other guard following quick behind. Kara sighed in relief, wiping her forehead. She turns back to Quackity, finding the boy still staring at her.

She chuckles awkwardly, “W-What?” Then Quackity, with a smile, placed his hand on the side of her face and pulled her into another kiss that seemed to want to last for centuries as the fountain continued to glow with its fireflies and lanterns.

* * *

**song;** _you get me so high - the neighborhood_

Alanna sits in her seat in the dining hall, right next to Jade and across from Sapnap who smiled at her gently. He had a couple bandaged cuts and bruises, but he survived, and she made sure to tell him how happy she was that he was okay.

Soon dinner would be served, though the King was nowhere to be seen. The Queen sat at her end of the table, talking with the Pogtopia General, BBH, who became general after Schlatt’s retirement. BBH’s son sits next to him, a little fox named Fundy who sat next to Karl and had grown close with him since they were close in age. Purpled, the blacksmith, sits next to Sapnap, and he eyes Jade, kind of flirting with her by looking at her, though Jade was oblivious.

Alyssa sat on the other side of Sapnap, but she spoke only with the Queen and BBH. Alyssa was King Techno of L’Manberg’s ex wife who was banished from L’Manberg after the divorce, though she found a home here and now she’s happy again.

But there was something about Queen Jorja’s face that made Alanna worried. First she says that the day they came to tell her that Schlatt was the son of the Devil and that she was the daughter of a White Wither. There was something going on.

Then, the doors open and there enters Kara and Quackity, giggling to each other as they hold each other’s hand, getting to their seats. Quackity took his seat next to his father’s end of the table where he sat next to Purpled while Kara sat next to Alanna who slapped the back of her head, causing Kara to exclaim and rub the back of her head.

“Where have you two been?” Alanna scolded her, “We’ve been worried sick.”

Kara scoffed, “No, you’ve been eating,” she eyes the plate sitting in front of her sister. 

Alanna sighed, “Kara, I need to tell you something—”

“Ah, is it really dinner time already?” 

King Dream entered the room with a grin, his right hand man George following close behind. George sat next to Jade, the King Dream took his seat at his end of the table. He cleared his throat, fixing his cape.

“Where is the first course, Butler?” He said, taking a sip from his water. His eyes met his wife’s, and that prompted her to speak up.

“So, honey,” she said, “why don’t you tell them what you did today?”

King Dream let out an embarrassed laugh, “I fought in the first battle of the war, that’s what I did,” but that’s not what his wife meant. 

Queen Jorja gave him a mean look, “No I mean who we have in our dungeon,” she remarked, cocking her head to the side as she smirked at him, knowing that she had just pissed her own husband off. 

King Dream was quick to change his demeanor, “Ah, yes,” he became cocky, “thank you for reminding me, _dear_ ,” he gave her a wink, but she gagged and turned away, “but now I am just one step closer to completing my own plan.”

Alanna furrowed her eyebrows — what plan was he talking about?

Sapnap leaned forward a bit, “Dream, what did you _do_?”

“I just simply took something of King Techno’s,” said King Dream with a smirk.

King Dream chuckled darkly.

“His own sister.”


	6. Turning Events

**song;** _boom boom - 2wei_

Alanna crossed her leg, reading some book about the White Withers. The myths, the urban legends, everything. She had to figure out who she was, and if she had any powers. Withers were powerful, especially White Withers. 

_ Similar to a Black Wither, White Withers look like a white 'demon' creature, and it is a white, skeletal beast with 3 Wither skulls as heads along with a body that consists of a skeletal spike and three prehensile rib cages. It also has black eyes and black mouths. It is pretty much the opposite of a Black Wither. The wither will spin black while loading health, at this mode it is invulnerable, but will not move or attack, only slowly fall down. When it is at full health it will explode, and send a noise heard all across the world. _

She flipped the page, sighing.

_ Though, White Withers can be much more than just Black Withers, especially when it comes to Humans who are half White Wither. For those Humans, they can look as normal as anyone else, but they can also heal themselves and also transform into this white demon creature with wings instead of two extra heads.  _

_ White Withers are supposedly banished from how dangerous they are, and some believe they are going extinct, but for those humans with the White Wither blood — stay safe and learn to control yourself. _

Alanna flipped the page again, finding the page about her possible powers from this blood of hers.

_ Powers of a White Wither Human _

  * _healing_


  * transform into white demon creature with wings instead of two heads


  * explosions, from hands


  * telepathy


  * invisibility 



And the list continued onto the next page. She had a lot of powers to figure out, and that worried her.

A sudden explosion is heard from a distance, causing Alanna to jump up immediately and run to the window, looking for what that noise was, only to see in the distance, fire and smoke flying into the air from the village. She gasped, covering her mouth. 

“King Dream! Sapnap!” She called out as she ran out of the room, leaving the book sitting there on her desk. She ran through the hallways, and soon others popped out of their rooms with worryful faces.

“Alanna, what is it?” Sapnap ran to her, holding the sides of her arms, “Is everything okay?”

Alanna shook her head, “There was an explosion in the South Village,” she told him in a panic. 

Sapnap grabbed her instantly and ran with her to King Dream’s throne room, where they only found his right hand man George sitting there, speaking with Queen Jorja as she sat in her own throne.

Queen Jorja turned to them, looking them up and down, “Is everything alright you two?”

Alanna points to the direction of the throne room’s entrance. “There was an explosion,” she informed the Queen.

Queen Jorja cursed under her breath, “George, go get my husband. I’ll deal with this for now,” she stood up and walked to the doors, pushing them open before standing on the large flooring in front of the throne room of the castle, watching the dark smoke raise into the sky, the fire spreading, the faint sound of screaming from that village.

Alanna stands next to Queen Jorja, “Let me go see what’s causing this,” she requested to the Queen, “let me go help them.”

Queen Jorja nodded, “Take Sapnap with you.” Sapnap nods and runs down the stairs, getting two horses ready to ride into the village. Before Alanna could walk away, Queen Jorja grabbed onto her sleeve, pulling her back a bit. “Be wary of those powers of yours, Alanna,” she warned her before letting go of the widow’s sleeve and heading back into the castle. 

Alanna ran down the stairs and got onto her horse, same as Sapnap, and they rode the horses out of the castle grounds, down the trails between the fields, and to the South Village.

As soon as they arrived, Alanna got off her horse and ushered the non injured civilians to evacuate the village immediately, and to help escort injured civilians out of the village as well. 

Sapnap went into one of the houses that the Royal Guard had already put out the fire on. “It was a classic TNT explosion, you can tell from the way it burned the outside of the houses first.” 

Alanna nodded, but then she turned her head and saw the man who had done this. “Oh my god.”

Sapnap turned to where she was looking, “What? What is— Wait, is that—”

Alanna took not another second to run over to the man, pulling her sword, and she yelled, causing him to pull out his sword and defend himself from the sword. “How dare you do this to these innocent people?” She screams at him, “You’ve killed a dozen innocent people just because of what?” She pushed her sword forcefully against his.

The man grunts, sitting on the ground as he defended himself, “Your King took my girl,” he said, “and I would’ve thought you would’ve liked to see me.”

Alanna groaned, “I didn’t want to see you again when you’re killing my people, Ranboo!” She pulls her sword up and swings again, but he shields himself.

Ranboo grunts, getting back up again as he continues to shield himself with his sword. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not,” said Alanna, “you left me and Kara years ago without even saying goodbye. You have no right to be sorry.” She let out a laugh, “Funny how I’m not actually blood related to Kara, neither of us are.” and Ranboo stared at her with confusion, “My father was a human, but our mother was a White Wither, Ranboo,” 

Her brother gasped, and his multicolored eyes widened. 

“You shouldn’t have ever left,” Alanna whispered before her sword reflected a light that blinded her brother for a moment, just for her to grab him and hold the sword up to his neck, knocking his own sword down onto the dirt ground.

Ranboo’s breath hitched, clenching his fist.

“I want my girl back,” 

Alanna shuddered, “You’re with King Techno’s sister?”

Ranboo grunted, “Y-Yes,” he couldn’t nod from the sword to his neck, “I love her so much, Alanna, I just want her to be safe.”

In her heart, she could feel that saddening emotion fill her. She didn’t exactly know what to do, so she lowered the sword. “Go,” she spoke quietly, “go back to L’Manberg and I’ll send you a letter soon. I’ll help you.” 

Ranboo had initially done this rampage throughout the South Village as a way to get King Dream out there so he could save his one true love, but he only ended up with his sister who revealed who their shared mother was, and some other guy he didn’t recognize.

“You don’t have to”

“Go before I change my mind, Ranboo.” She cut him off sternly.

Ranboo lowered his head before he began to run away, but then she called his name out.

“And Ranboo!” She called out, and he turned to look at her, stopping at the exit of the South Village. She sighed, and gave her little brother a smile. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Ranboo nodded at her with a small smile back, before he ran out and left the Kingdom. Alanna turned and looked at Sapnap, but she didn’t say anything, even if he now knew what she was, and who her brother was. Though, he didn’t exactly care. He still loved her the same.

Back at the castle, Prince Quackity and Kara watch from the windows of the library. With crossed arms, Quackity paced back and forth in front of the windows as Kara sat on the windowsill, watching as her sister and Sapnap got back onto their horses and returned to the castle after helping the rest of the civilians while the Royal Guard took care of the damage.

“That was my brother,” said Kara, “Ranboo.” 

Quackity looked over to her for just a moment, but he scoffed. “The Half-and-Half?” He referred, and Kara rolled her eyes.

“Yes, but please don’t call him that,” she requested nicely, “it’s offensive.”

Quackity clicked his tongue, “He just killed a dozen of our people, Kara.  _ Our _ people,” he made sure she heard him, “Hell, I can call him whatever the fuck I want, and I can’t— I can’t believe your sister fucking let him go.” He cursed like a sailor, and he was getting angry. 

Kara straightened her legs out on the windowsill. “Will you calm down?”

“How can I fucking calm down, Kara?!” He shouted at her, causing her to flinch as he raised his hands — she thought he was going to hit her — and he noticed this immediately. “Oh, Kara, I’m— I’m sorry—”

“Forget it,” Kara got up and left the room. Quackity rubbed his face with his hands, groaning as he felt so guilty. He took his watch from his pocket and threw it onto the ground, causing it to break into a billion pieces, before he grunted and slammed his hands on the table.

“Dammit.”

* * *

**song;** _clint eastwood - gorillaz_

“King Techno, please, calm down—”

The King threw a chair against the wall, breaking it. “How could I possibly calm down?” He raises his voice at his maid, “My sister is fuckin’ missing! Someone kidnapped her, and you expect me to calm down?” He scoffed, “Don’t ever say any dumb shit like that again or I’ll fire you like your brother.” He threatened before he took a seat on his own seat at the end of the table in his dining hall. King Techno’s hands covered his face, “Please exit this room, Miss,” he instructed the maid with a muffled voice from his hands covering his mouth, and the maid obliged and left the room.

Eret, the one in charge of the armory, stood against the wall with crossed arms, one foot on the wall behind him. Niki, the witch, stood next him with a lowered head.

“You do know of what Ranboo had done, correct?” King Techno took his hands off his face, swallowing hard as he looked over to the two. 

“Yes,” Niki replied. Eret only nodded.

King Techno leans back a bit, taking his hair and pulling it into a gentle ponytail so his long pink hair is out of his face. “He’s in his room resting, hopefully he’ll learn his lesson for doing such a thing. That shit he pulled,” he was surely vulgar, “it looks like we’ll have another battle very soon.” He informed them.

“So that means I have to up my game with the armory right?” Eret asked, and King Techno nodded his head.

“I’m going to need you to go into my vault,” King Techno connected his hands in front of his face as his elbows are propped up on the table, “get everything you can from there and add it to your armory. We’ll need everything we can get for this war,” he smiled evilly, “to end it once and for all.”

Eret and Niki slowly turned to each other. They gulp, and they turn back to King Techno. Whatever was going to happen, they knew people would die. No matter what, but it worried them that this might be the breaking point of their dear Pig King.

* * *

**song;** _teeth - 5 seconds of summer_

_ (continued) _

“Why are we in Alanna’s room?”

Jade walked over to Alanna’s desk, grabbing the book sitting there and tossing it to her brother, and he catches it and reads the title. Sapnap looks back up at her, confused.

“What the fuck is she reading about a White Wither and why is there a bookmark at the page about the powers of a White Wither Human?” Jade said angrily. Jade had always been scared of such beasts, ever since she was young when her parents would tell her scary stories in hopes to get her to stay in her own bed at night, though it didn’t really work.

Sapnap sighed, “It’s not my business to tell you,” and his sister’s jaw dropped.

“So you know!” She exclaimed to him with furrowed eyebrows, “Tell me now, Nick.”

He shook his head, “I can’t— it’s not my business—”

Jade grabbed his shoulders and shook him, “Tell me right now, Nick, or so help me, God, I will body slam you.” She threatened her brother, and he shivered.

He looked down, and he sighs.

“She’s half White Wither, like her brother,” Sapnap told her, “she’s trying to learn how to use her new powers so she can fight against L’Manberg,” and he shifted his eyes, “and help Ranboo,” he spoke quietly on the last part so no one else but Jade would hear him.

Jade raises one of her eyebrows, “Help him . . . how?”

Sapnap gulps.

“Help him get Techno’s sister back.”

* * *

**song;** _teeth - 5 seconds of summer_

“Why won’t you tell me, goddammit?!”

King Dream grunted as he pulled back the chair the girl was tied and chained to, looking straight into her face, that white mask of his had that stupid, creepy looking smiley face on it, but it moved along with his own face, most of the time at least. It scared the shit out of the girl.

Chrisalyn grunted, blowing her hair out of her face lightly, though it didn’t really work. Her face was covered in cuts and bruises, just like her body was. Some were bandaged, but most weren’t.

“I’m not going to tell you shit,” she stood her ground, even if she was sitting on a tilting chair, “I’m not one of you, and you’re not one of us. You don’t get to fucking know—”

He roughly puts the chair back on its feet, and she leans forward before throwing her head back. King Dream steps back, grunting. He gives Chrisalyn a tired glare before turning around. The guards at the door stood there with their spears. “Make sure she doesn’t escape, idiots.” He ordered before he pushed open the door, but then she spoke.

“You will never be as great as your father,”

King Dream gasps, he felt his heart stop for a second. She was smarter than she looked to be. He let out a dark chuckle, “Exactly, because I’ll be better.”

Chrisalyn furrowed her eyebrows, creasing them as she glared at the King of Pogtopia.

He leaned over to one of the guards, “Stuff her mouth,” he whispered his order to them before heading out of the room, heading back to the castle like he hadn’t just tortured the princess of L’Manberg.

He enters the throne room, finding George pacing. Once he met George’s gaze, the man ran up to him and shoved him. “Where were you!?”

King Dream let out a confused laugh, “What’s going on, Gogy—” he reached his hand out to touch George’s face but George slapped it away.

“Your prisoner’s boyfriend went on a rampage in the South Village,” George informed the King, “Twelve people were killed, several are injured, and yet you were nowhere to be found!” He berated him.

King Dream shushed him, “Hey, I’m sorry. I was just busy with personal business,” the King cleared his throat, “I’ll be in the study. Get Alanna, we need to talk about the attack.” and with that, King Dream left.

* * *

**song;** _waste your time - junny_

Kara sits in her room, reading a book she had borrowed from the library. Her legs were crossed, and she sat up against the large wooden bedframe on her bed, a pillow sitting in her lap as her arms laid on it, reading her book comfortably.

It was a book about a prince and a poor girl, similar to how Kara and Quackity had fallen for each other, but now, from what had happened between them, she felt noncommittal. She didn’t think it was right to get married to someone so quickly.

She wanted to be like her sister, marry the boy she loved, but she didn’t love Quackity yet. She had fallen for him, sure, but she wasn’t in love with him yet. 

She liked him, the idea of him. She couldn’t marry a boy who she hadn’t learned to love yet. Because what if she never did? What if she never learned to love him? 

“Knock, knock,”

Kara turned up her head at the door as a knock was heard from the door, but also a familiar voice saying it verbally as well. She grunted, remembering she was supposed to be upset with him. 

“What do you want, Alex?” Kara remarked as she looked back down to her book, even if her prince stood there at the door.

Quackity sighed, “I wanted to apologize.”

Kara cocked her eyebrow, “For what?” she struggled to hide her smirk. 

He began to walk over to her in a slightly funny way, taking big steps to small steps. “Well, for starters, yelling at you and losing my temper at you,”

Kara narrowed her eyes, “Mhm,”

Quackity grunts, holding his hands behind his back, “And for being a jerk,” 

Kara set her book down and crossed her arms, “And?”

Quackity sits on the bed next to her legs, “And for asking you to marry me too quickly.” 

Kara grins, and she leans over and pecks his cheek gently, her hand on the opposite cheek on his face, “It’s okay. I just want us to be together, and learn to love each other before we decide to get married.”

The prince nods, “So you want to be my girlfriend?”

Kara nods her head slowly, “Yes, and in the future, we can get married, but for right now,” she smiled at him softly and leaned her forehead against his temple, “let’s just enjoy being teenagers, okay?”

Quackity turns his head and pecks her forehead as he takes her hand in his hand, leaning his head against her forehead, just enjoying the moment.

They shouldn't have to rush their relationship. They should be happy, enjoy their youth together. 

Before it’s too late . . . right?


	7. Heaven’s Cavern

**song;** _ sweet talk - saint motel _

“Fuck!”

Alanna exclaimed as she fell to her knees, holding her hand that was burnt to a crisp. She was trying to control her power of explosions, but couldn’t seem to get it right. Thankfully, she had already learned to control her healing power so she quickly healed up her hand. She took out her white bandages from the pocket of her jacket, wrapping it around her hand.

She was getting better, nonetheless, but the wanting to be better grew and grew. She had to get better, in order to fight in the war for Schlatt. For the man she loved, the father of her children. But, just thinking about how he died made her furious. 

Her husband was murdered, targeted by L’Manberg for only they knew what for. She missed him dearly everyday. Why wouldn’t she? 

She had most of her powers down and under control, but there were some she couldn’t. It was stressful, to say the least. The explosions and the teleportation, she hasn’t yet to master those two powers, but she had telepathy down. It was the easiest one, to her at least. 

“Morning, Alanna,” Queen Jorja greeted as she approached the widow. She wore tight pants and a belt with a tight white long sleeve shirt. She looked as if she was going horseback riding, which honestly, she might’ve been. She just wanted to stop by and greet Alanna.

Alanna gave her a nod, “Morning, your majesty,” she stood up from the ground.

Queen Jorja looked down at her hands, “Have you been controlling your powers well?”

“Yeah, actually,” Alanna chuckled, fixing her shirt, “Much easier than I thought it’d be for the first few powers, but now it’s gotten so hard to figure out how to control the explosions and the teleportation—” suddenly she teleported to on top of the barn, where she sat down and crossed her arms, grumbling, “God I hate teleportation!” she yelled, punching the air.

Queen Jorja laughed, “Have fun with that!” 

Alanna grunted as Queen Jorja began to walk off to the horses’ stable. The widow sighs, getting back up, now standing on top of the barn, looking at the Kingdom around her. It looked peaceful, quiet. Quackity and Kara sat at the garden as Karl and Camille picked roses and daisies for a bouquet they’d make for the Queen. King Dream and his right hand man stood at one of the balconies of the castle, watching the birds fly in the sky above them. Sapnap walked around the trails in the fields with BBH as little Fundy and Alyssa walked behind them while Purpled walked with Jade a few steps behind, making her laugh, trying to court her. 

Nothing bad was going on, everyone looked happy. 

She wished it could stay like this forever, but the war was approaching quickly and soon it’d be the day she’d fight for the honor of her lost husband. As much as it did inspire her, she knew she could lose her life, but at least she’d die an honorable death.

If only, it was that easy.

* * *

**song;** _sweet talk - saint motel_

_ (continued) _

The door slams open, and Wilbur doesn’t even jump at the sudden noise. There, a woman entered, stomping her boots on the wooden tiled floor underneath her. She grabs Wilbur’s shoulder and turns him to face her.

“Is what Tommy said true? Are you wanting to kill us all?” It was Erin, Schlatt’s sister and L’Manberg’s Spymaster. She had grown since her brother’s death, but she’s only really grown more stubborn and aggravated with everything. 

The two had been together for about two years now, after meeting less than a year after the death of her brother, after she had moved to L’Manberg. The two took their time when it came to falling in love with each other, a bit too much time as it was month five of their relationship when they said ‘I love you’ to each other. But now, she had just learned from her fiance’s brother, Tommy, that his plan for the war may kill everyone. 

You could imagine how furious she was.

Wilbur huffed, “You really believe that twat?” 

The tall male scoffed.

“Of course I believe him,” said Erin, “because this is about life and death, Wilbur.”

“You act like you didn’t want to die all those months ago,” Wilbur commented, and Erin gasped at his words, “You wanted to die so hard because you missed your brother, and yet when I came around, you fell for me and suddenly wanted to live.” He describes to her, “So explain to me that, Erin,” he leaned in close to her face, those dark brown eyes staring into hers with a red tint filling the brown. 

Erin felt her heart drop to her stomach, but she stood her ground. 

“Quit trying to scare me,” Erin said firmly, and he widens his eyes and backs up a bit, “I’m your future wife, I’m used to your shenanigans.” She remarked, then she slapped him across the face, causing him to hiss at the sudden sting. “Drop that plan of yours, Wilbur.”

She turned away and left without another word rolling off her tongue. Wilbur continued to stand there in his study, standing at one of the tables as he fixed a cup of herbal tea for him. 

He took a sip, and exhaled deeply. 

“I wish you’d understand, Erin,” he spoke to himself quietly, “that I simply can’t do that.” 

And he took another sip of his tea.

  
  


* * *

**song;** _what’s up danger - blackway & black caviar_

Alanna sits up in her bed, looking through the window from her position on her comfortable bed in her room at the castle. It was almost midnight, everyone was in bed asleep by now. The widow flung her blanket off of her, walking over to her bags and taking out a couple knives. She grabs her belt and wraps it around her waist, sliding the knives into their holders.

She grabbed her shield and put it on her back, then made it out of her room as quietly as possible. 

Alanna walked through the dark corridors of the second floor in the castle almost silently. Everyone was asleep, and she couldn’t get caught helping to release the King’s prisoner in his secret dungeon that she only knew where to find because of—

“Sapnap,” she greeted him in a whisper, “are you sure you want to do this?”

The Leader of the Royal Guard let out a gentle sigh before smiling at her, “I’m sure, but,” he stepped to the side, revealing her sister standing there, “talk to her first,” and Sapnap headed down the hall to go onto one of the balconies to keep a watch for any one entering the throne room where the entrance to the dungeon was closely nearby.

Kara stood there, her body and face mostly shadowed from the darkness of the room, just the moonlight shining in from the tall, 10 foot windows touched parts of her, but other than that, she was barely visible, but Alanna knew how to control her night vision, which she found stupid that she had that, though she was glad to have it on a night like this.

“Kara,” Alanna said, furrowed her eyebrows, “what’re you doing?”

Her little sister stood there, her hands in the pockets of her pajama pants. “So you’re going to help Ranboo rescue his girlfriend?” she spoke quietly, obviously as everyone else was asleep in the other rooms.

Alanna nodded her head, and the girl sighs.

“Would you,” she pauses for a moment, “tell him I said hi?” 

“Of course,” Alanna nodded at her little sister, “now get to bed, honey.” She hugged her sister tightly before Kara ran off to bed and Alanna continued down the hallway. She made her way down the stairs quickly but carefully, holding onto her shield that hooked onto her back.

She headed into the throne room, carefully heading to the entrance, knowing that Ranboo and his friends were standing right outside those doors. She pulled the door open and let them in. It was Ranboo, another tall fella named Eret, and a shorter boy named Skeppy, who was the Prince of L’Manberg, though he was really the youngest son of Councilor Philza.

Alanna hugged her brother tightly, shutting her eyes as she swung him from side to side. It had been more than half a decade since she last hugged her brother, she was beyond happy that he was okay and well.

Ranboo pulled back, “Come on, we have to save Chri—”

There were footsteps and voices approaching one of the other entrances to the throne room. Skeppy turned to Eret, “What are we going to do? They’ll find us!” He shouted quietly at them, but Alanna just smiled and grabbed a hold on each of them. In a matter of seconds, the four became unseen from everything around them, blending in with their surroundings.

The right exit to the throne room was where they were coming in from, and that’s when those two doors opened up and there entered George and King Dream. They knew they couldn’t risk making the slightest noise, knowing how good of a hunter George was. It was no wonder why George was King Dream’s right hand man.

Skeppy covered his mouth, keeping himself quiet as Eret bit his bottom lip gently. Ranboo held onto Alanna like it was for dear life. His eyes were shaking, he was so scared, he was shivering. But she raised her hand and placed it onto his, rubbing his white skinned hand softly.

**_“Just stay calm and we’ll make it through to her.”_ **

Ranboo heard his sister just speak to him through his mind, and even though it freaked him out so much, he knew he had to keep quiet or he’ll ruin the plan, and not get Chrisa back.

He knew it was one of the White Wither powers, the power of telepathy. He was sure he had it too, but all he’s ever known is his Enderman side. He wasn’t the type to want, or like, change.

King Dream and George exited the room through the front entrance, walking right past the invisible group of four. For a moment, George stopped as he sensed something. 

The King turned to him, “You alright?” he asked, and George shook out of his thoughts.

“Fine, fine, let’s go.” and with that, the two exited the room.

Alanna took the invisibility off of them and they headed towards the left exit of the room. There was a short corridor with a table, a couple chairs, and a bookcase. Ranboo placed his hands on his hips as he looked around at their new, but empty surroundings. Eret walked around, looking behind paintings and furniture, as Skeppy stood next to Ranboo. 

“So now what?” Ranboo spoke at normal volume now as no one else was around, and they didn’t have to worry about anyone walking in as Eret had then locked the doors of every exit so only they could unlock it and leave. 

Alanna stepped in front of the bookcase, pulling out a couple books a bit before one caused the bookcase to unhinge from the wall and slide forward. It was a secret entrance to the dungeon. It was easy to figure out which book it was, the only one that wasn’t about Pogtopia.

The four head down the stairway into the dungeon where Alanna suddenly stopped. “They can’t see me or they’ll tell the King. Ranboo, Eret,” she turned to the taller men, “you’ll have to do this yourself,” she told them.

Ranboo and Eret slowly looked at each other. Ranboo gulped as Eret cleared his throat. Eret fixed his wrist collar before continuing down the steps. Ranboo followed closely behind.

Eret gestured for Ranboo to go first, so the Half-and-Half pulled open the door, causing the guards to turn around quickly in confusion and panic. With one kick, Ranboo knocks one guard to the ground as Eret takes out his sword and fights with the other guard. After a few slashes, the guard falls and Eret kicks his helmet off, only to gasp at who it was.

“C-Callahan,” Eret stutters at the sight of his old childhood friend. He kept the sword pointing at his throat, just inches away from Callahan’s Adam’s apple.

Ranboo looks over and sees the other guard getting up and taking off his own helmet, causing the Half-and-Half to gasp, “Punz,” he said. It was his old best friend from when he was growing up, the one he left behind in Pogtopia when he moved to L’Manberg after leaving everyone behind, including his own family.

Punz stands up, but Ranboo points his own sword at his throat as well. “What are you doing here?” Punz asked, “I thought you left Pogtopia for good.” He remarked at him.

Ranboo’s voice stayed monotone, “I did, and I’m not staying. I’m only here for Chrisalyn.” He spoke firmly to Punz, his sword still at his throat.

“Will you tell anyone about us being here?” Eret asked Callahan, but he shook his head.

“No,” Callahan answered, “no good would come from it. We’ll keep quiet,” and he stood up from the ground, “but only if you never come back.” 

Ranboo glanced over to them.

Eret sighed, “Fine,” and he gestured with the sword to leave, “go now. Please.” Callahan and Punz then left the room, heading up the stairs, but Alanna and Skeppy had gone invisible so they wouldn’t see her or him, and would only think it was Ranboo and Eret there. Alanna and Skeppy headed into the room where they found a door to the cell where Chrisalyn was being held.

Ranboo turned around and his back faced the door before he back kicked it open. The door swings open, slamming against the wall. Ranboo, with his sword in his hand, darts into the room, only to find Chrisalyn sitting there in the chair that she was tied to, her head leaning down.

Dropping the sword, Ranboo ran towards her and kneeled down in front of her. He lifted her head gently, “Chrisalyn, baby,” he whispered to her, “come on,” he untied the rope and undid the chains, then helped her up, but picked her up in bridal style. She was out of it.

“R-Ranb-boo?” her voice was raspy. Her eyes could barely stay open.

He shushed her, “it’s okay, go back to sleep. I’m getting you out of here.” 

And that was a promise.

They made their way up the stairs quickly, heading out of the throne room and out of the border of the castle, Alanna stayed behind, and Ranboo turned around, seeing his sister standing there at the entrance of the castle’s borders.

“Take care of her,” said Alanna, “and Ranboo,”

Ranboo raises his eyebrows.

“Kara misses you,” and with a smile, she waved and headed back inside, closing the large wooden gates behind her. Ranboo grins, and he catches up with the other two, making their way back home to L’Manberg, where King Techno and Wilbur talk about their war plan.

* * *

**song;** _ losing my mind - mystery skulls _

“Your majesty, what did you need to speak with me about?”

Alanna closes the door to the study behind her. She had a sickening feeling, a worsening worry that this might be about Chrisalyn and her “escape” but King Dream seemed to be fine. Happy even. It was odd.

“So, I’m sure my wife has informed you on what Schlatt was, correct?” King Dream took a seat behind the desk in front of the wall of windows. Alanna nodded, so King Dream continued. “You married the son of Lucifer — honestly I wouldn’t know what to think either,” he admitted with a short laugh. He seemed to be a laughing person, but he seemed more cocky than anything. “Now, I am sure you don’t know his secrets,” he cocked his head, “right?”

Alanna lowered her head as she sat in front of the desk, across from King Dream. “Yes, sir . . . do you know what they are?”

King Dream chortled. “That husband of yours, he was definitely the Devil, to say the least. Sure, he was a chill guy and he was nice to you and your family, but behind closed doors, he was . . . completely different.”

She felt chills go down her back. 

King Dream cleared his throat, “From what we’ve learned, Schlatt worked along with his apparent business partner, Wilbur Soot, the general of L’Manberg. I’m sorry to inform you about this but,” he shuddered — never a good sign, “He had robbed and killed dozens of people.”

Alanna felt her heart drop to her stomach, she felt nauseous.

“Like my wife told you,” he looked up at her, those eyes of his white mask stared into Alanna’s eyes, “he wasn’t one of us.” 

Alanna gulped, “So he . . . killed people, robbed them, and he was . . . killed for that?”

King Dream fixed his collar, “We believe he was killed because he left that business behind, around the time your son was about six years old, two years before—”

“He was killed,” Alanna finished the King’s sentence, “Thank you for telling me.” She stands up and turns away, but King Dream stands up and pushes his chair back abruptly. 

“Alanna,” the King called out to her, “I know this is a lot to take in—”

“I’m sorry, your majesty, but you think?” Alanna refuted, “You told me that not only that the love of my life was the son of Lucifer himself, but also that he robbed and murdered people in cold blood. Forgive me for becoming upset,” and she turned back around, heading to the door.

“Just know he changed for you,” King Dream said, trying to sound somewhat compassionate towards the widow, “and that I am deeply sorry for your loss.”

Alanna scoffed, “Thanks,” and she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

**song;** _ losing my mind - mystery skulls _

_ (continued) _

“Wilbur!”

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me— Tommy!” He turned around and found his brother approaching him rather quickly, “What’s wrong? Did something happ—”

“Did you kill my mentor?” Tommy cut Wilbur off of his fake worry, and when Wilbur stayed quiet, Tommy repeated louder, “Did you kill my mentor, Wilbur?”

Wilbur let out a scoff in disbelief of how Tommy was acting, “You’ve gotta be joking, Tommy,” said Wilbur, “tell me you’re joking. You don’t actually think I’d kill Schlatt, right?”

But Tommy stayed quiet, and Wilbur began to cackle maniacally, causing Tommy to step back in confusion. Wilbur wipes a single tear from his eye, calming his laughing down.

Tommy knew Wilbur was mentally ill, and he didn’t get how others didn’t see that his brother was, but this — this was different than before. It was like his mental stability was going over the edge just because of Tommy’s sudden accusation towards his brother.

Wilbur exhaled, “You see, why would I kill your mentor who was also my own business partner?” He placed his hand on his chest, “Makes no sense, except for the part he left me behind just so he could be there for his son more,” he let out a short sarcastic laugh, “oh, lord — just thinking about it makes me laugh,” he opened his eyes and narrowed them as he turned to his little brother, “I hope you realize how much Schlatt meant to me. He was like a brother to me, a better one at that.” He remarked, earning a grumble from Tommy, “But, I understood why he left. He loved his son, he loved his wife, and then the next thing I knew, you became his apprentice, but he never even asked how I was doing.”

Tommy stared at him with wide eyes, he was frozen in place as Wilbur walked back and forth in front of him.

“It’s funny, really,” said Wilbur, “that I actually wanted to kill Schlatt,” that’s when his brother gasped and took a step back, “but by the time I wanted to, the time I actually had the guts to — I was too late.”

Tommy tilted his head in confusion, but then Wilbur spoke again as he met eyes with his brother, his eyes turning red as his face became shadowed.

“Because someone had gotten to him first.”

* * *

**song;** _turning page - sleeping at last_

Sapnap helped Alanna step down from the carriage. They were in the middle of the woods, though it was weirdly bright from the sun piercing through the leaves on the tall trees. There was a cave, a “Heaven’s Cavern” as Sapnap had claimed it was. Sapnap had explained on the way there that it was a cave where Royal families will go to see their deceased loved ones one last time, to say goodbye or ask a few final questions, though some use it for interrogation to figure who may have killed them.

In this case, Alanna wanted to know if Schlatt was murdered, and who did it.

They entered the cave, though Alanna was hesitant at first. She hadn’t seen Schlatt since the day he died, she had missed him so much. His voice, his laugh, his face, his smile. He was the drug she was addicted to, but now, it wasn’t so much anymore. Her feelings for him had already moved on, she knew that, but now all she wished was that she would’ve helped him more. She knew of his addiction to alcohol, but she ignored the signs of everything else he kept from her. She felt terrible, but she had a feeling Schlatt had felt worse than her before.

Sapnap followed Alanna closely behind her as they walked through the candle lit cave. It was dim, but it was lit enough for Sapnap to still see the glowing light in Alanna’s beautiful eyes. 

Finally they made it to this circular built room that looked like a large dome. Sapnap walked over to a column built of rocks and cement, and he gestured for Alanna to walk over to where he stood, so she obliged. He gently took her hand and placed it on an orange crystal on the column, and suddenly the room began to glow even more than before.

A mist is formed, and suddenly a ghost appears, its back facing her. She steps closer curiously, and she gasps. The suit the ghost was wearing, it was so familiar. She knew who it was, even if she had already known who she would see here that day. 

“Schlatt,” Alanna’s lips curved into a smile seeing as the ghost turned around. He still had those large horns of his, and that damn smile — it was plastered on his face.

“Lana,” he said and he hovered over to her quickly, hugging her, his hand on the back of her head — she could feel him, she could feel his touch. She hugged him, and she didn’t want to let go. “I am so happy to see you again, darling,” he whispered to her. Sapnap stood near the wall, watching as the girl he loved reunited with the man she loved.

Alanna stepped back from the hug with her smile still bright and big on her face, and after a bit of conversing about the kids, she had to ask about what happened that fateful day — the day Schlatt left them all. “Tell me who killed you, Schlatt. Please.” She begged him. “I want to make things right.” 

By now she had already told him about how she knew who he was behind her back, and how he was the son of the Devil. He didn’t take it as much as a surprise that she knew already.

“I don’t quite know who did it,” Schlatt admitted, sliding his hands into his pockets, “I just know someone stabbed me in the back when I was trying to leave the house when it was on fire. I fell to the ground and someone dragged me back upstairs and left me there to burn to death.” He explained, “I didn’t want to leave you all yet, and I regret that more everyday.”

Alanna sighed, “It’s okay. The kids are safe, I’m safe. We’re all doing good, but now it’s time for you to rest,” she told her deceased husband. She sat on her knees and Schlatt sat in front of her, bringing her into a tight embrace, “I know you don’t want to go, but it’s time for you to head back to the afterlife,” she was choking up a bit, she could feel tears streaming down her face, “I love you, Schlatt, okay? Please watch over us from— wherever you go.”

Schlatt chuckled, kissing her forehead gently. “I hope you realize how much of a good person you are, love,” he holds the back of her head again, but then he traced his hand to her cheek, holding her cheek against the palm of his head, “I’ll always be with you, Lana.”

His ghost begins to glow as he holds her against his chest, and suddenly he glows a bright white and yellow, before he disappears and dissolves into glowing dust. Alanna sniffled, and continued to sit there. Sapnap approached her and kneeled down next to her, placing his hand on her shoulder, but then she turned to him and hugged him tightly, latching onto him like some leech, never wanting to let go. She cried into his shirt as he hugged her back.

Finally . . . she got closure.


	8. The Firelit Parlor

**song;** _apocalypse - cigarettes after sex_

Dinner was quiet, not many conversations were being had at the table that night before the second battle. Fundy and Karl had ran off into the garden that was now lit up nicely with fairy lights so the boys could see as they played tag. There was really nowhere else to play, as Alanna had warned that there are rich items inside that may break if they bumped into them.

Camille sat in Alanna’s lap as she ate her dinner, Alanna had already finished as she quietly spoke with Jade next to her. Sapnap, who sat on the other side of her, would repeatedly glance at the widow, still worried about her from her breakdown at Heaven’s Cavern the day before. His care for her had never changed, even if she was a White Wither human. He didn’t care. He loved her before that, he’ll still love her after. 

After dinner, the residents all headed back to their rooms as Jade and Alanna headed outside to where the kids were. Sapnap stood nearby to protect them, as a precaution for the second battle the following day, since it was possible there would be a surprise attack. BBH had gone to the kitchen with Purpled and they spoke with the maids and helped them clean up. George had stayed with King Dream and his wife as they spoke in a dim parlor. 

Queen Jorja sat in one of the chairs, her right elbow propped up on the arm of the chair as King Dream sat across from her, looking at the written plan. George stood behind the couch behind the King as he looked at the plan as well, leaning forward, a bit close to the King’s head.

The Queen spoke up, “Clay,” she spoke his real name, earning a shocked face from George from the sudden name-calling, “I’m worried,” she admitted to her husband.

“Why?” King Dream had no compassion in his voice, “it’s not like you’re fighting in the war with us.”

“Did you forget?” Queen Jorja questioned, “I am fighting in the war. I thought I informed you about my decision,” but King Dream shook his head.

“Guess not,” said King Dream with a careless shrug.

Queen Jorja scoffed, standing up from her chair, “Should I not worry?”

King Dream continued to look at the written war plan, no emotion in the face on his mask, or even behind his mask, “It’s odd how you’re not worried about how your own son wants to fight in the war,” she hated how he called  _ their  _ son only hers, as if it wasn’t his at all.

Queen Jorja fakes a laugh, but when her husband stays quiet, she becomes angry.

“You cannot be serious,” she raised her voice at him, “are you letting him?”

King Dream stifles a sarcastic laugh, “You actually think I’d let him fight? He’s 16, Jorja. A fucking teenager—” he was becoming frustrated, “—Of course I’m not going to let him fight in the damn war,” he let out a scoff, “Who— Who do you think I am, Jorja?” He was bewildered from his wife’s questioning. “You think I’m some bad guy who’d let his own son fight in the war? I’m not fucking Schlatt or Wilbur— I’m not my fucking father either, so get off my damn back!”

George, now taken back from the King’s sudden outburst towards his wife. The Queen stood there, and with teary eyes, she stormed off. King Dream let out a large, audible sigh, his hands on his mask, before he looked up and stood up. He turned to George, went to grab his arm as he spoke, “I’m sorry you had to—”

George jerked his arm back, and King Dream tilted his head a bit.

“No man,” said George, “should  _ ever  _ speak to his wife like that, even if he doesn’t love her.” He scolded the King with a firm voice, “She still loves you, so you should treat her with respect, and until then, I’ll be with her.” He stepped back and turned around, leaving the parlor.

King Dream grunted, “God!” He exclaimed as he kicked the table in front of him. It bounces a bit onto the cold floor, creating a large sound to echo throughout the parlor. The King places his hands on his hips, sighing as he stands there in the dim room, with only the fireplace cracking from the burning fire inside of it. He turned to look at it, remembering that fateful day.

And with gritting teeth, he smiled.

* * *

**song;** _prey - the neighborhood_

The L’Manberg General cleared his desk of the papers and items, them all falling onto the floor in a loud, messy manner. He sets the plan down onto the table, spreading it out as he reads it over and over and over again, causing him to laugh maniacally. His curly hair fell over his eyes, but he didn’t care. His veins were visible in his hands, his arms — even his neck as he roared with manic laughter. 

His plan was there and ready to go for the battle just hours away. It was past midnight now, pure darkness outside his house in which he shared with his father and brother as their other brother, Tubbo, was the chosen Prince, taken under King Techno’s wing, or pig arm.

Whatever it was.

Wilbur walked over to a door in his study, a locked door to a side room to his study that only he has been in before. He took the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door, heading inside with his war plan in one hand and his keys in the other. He kept the door open so he could walk in and out of the room with ease. 

The walls of that side room were made of concrete, there were cracks and holes, little rocks of concrete on the floor. He never cleaned that room. On those walls, there were writings of random words that meant things to the mentally ill general of L’Manberg.

Words like ‘war’ and ‘plan’ and most importantly, ‘death.’ It was dark in that room, so barely any of the words written on the walls were visible, only the ones that the light shined on.

Wilbur began to laugh like before, roaring like a maniac. His previously chocolate eyes were now blood red, his veins piercing through his skin as his hand sat on the wall, leaning over, staring at the wall where he had written, ‘The Death of Us All’ in large, thin letters.

“It’s all going to be over soon,” Wilbur spoke with a shaking voice, “we’ll all be okay—”

“What are you doing?”

Wilbur raised his head immediately, and he stood up straight, turning his head slightly so whoever was there could see the right side of his face with ease, seeing his red eyes and evil smile, and he saw who it was — and his dark smile grew larger.

“Hello,” Wilbur greeted, “father.”

* * *

**song;** _don’t let me go - cigarettes after sex_

“It’s almost dawn, Alanna. You need sleep.”

“White Withers don’t need sleep,” said the widow as she continued to train, slashing the dummies’s necks. The dummies were these mannequins made of potato sacks that were used as people like things so you could practice your training on them.

Sapnap stood there with his hands behind his back. It was now before dawn on the day of the war, and he watched the girl he loved train and train when she was supposed to be resting for the big battle. According to Alanna now, White Withers didn’t need sleep — which was true, but Sapnap still wanted her to at least rest her body before the battle.

“At least sit down for a moment—”

“No, Nick,” said Alanna, “I have to train.” Now, she was practicing her control with her powers, learning how to use them well. Though, she didn’t know how to use her wings on command yet, which sucked because she could possibly use them in the battle later that day.

Sapnap thinned his lips. She was working herself to death, even if it didn’t even exhaust her at all. He walked over to her, and latched his hand onto her arm, making her stop. “Alanna, it’s almost dawn and you’ve been training since yesterday evening. Please, just—”

“No!” Alanna cut him off from his begging, “I have to do this for him. I have to stop this war and get revenge for my dead husband! You know what happened to him, you were there!” She shouted at him, “Why won’t you let me do this for him . . . ?” her voice was quiet now, and the Royal Guard Leader could hear the sobs she was holding back in her throat.

_ “So can you?” _

_ Sapnap stood up, placing his hand on the back of his neck. “Sure, just give me a couple days and I’ll have that fireplace done in no time,” and Jade gave him a smile before she exited the house that belonged to Alanna, and her family.  _

_ The, at the time, married woman was with her husband and son at a neighboring village, the West Village, to see Alanna’s grandparents while Jade and Sapnap stayed to house sit. Jade had wanted her brother to build a fireplace in Alanna’s house while she was gone, as she’s always wanted one, but Schlatt never had the time to because of his job as the Kingdom’s general. Sapnap obliged and wanted to build the fireplace for her, for free, because well, he loved Alanna and wanted her to be happy. _

_ Looking at the photos hanging around on the walls, it made him smile from how bright her own smile was. She was so happy. _

_ Even if she was happy with another man. _

He stood in front of her, lowering his head, but she kept his hand gripped on her arm.

“Alanna, listen to me,” he said softly, “I care about you more than anyone else in this entire country— this entire freaking world, and I want you to be absolutely ready for this battle. I honestly don’t want you to fight, but I know you’ll do it anyways, and I want you to be able to do your best.”

The widow looks away, “I just want to be good enough,” she mumbles.

“For who?” Sapnap asked, “You’re good enough for everyone— you’re better than everyone, and you should know that you’re the most important person to me, and at the war today, I will protect you with everything I have because— because I’m so in love with you.”

Sapnap then covered his mouth with his unoccupied hand as he realized what he had just bluntly confessed to her. Alanna lowered her head, the top half of her face now shadowed from her chocolate brown hair. She raised her hand, placing it on his that covered his mouth before she gently pulled it away from his mouth. She lifted the back of her feet off the dirt underneath them, standing on her tiptoes, creasing her shoes as she leaned up to kiss him.

Connecting their lips, Sapnap’s eyes were wide, frozen open. His hands were out and away from her as her own eyes were shut, her hand now placed on his cheek. After a moment, Sapnap eases in and kisses back, his eyes slowly shutting. His hands close in around her, placing them on the sides of her head, but then Alanna pulled away.

She stood there, a bit taken back, staring at the ground. “Do you really love me?”

Sapnap nodded, even though she faced down, “Of course. I’ve always loved you, Lana,” he stepped closer, and with a hushed voice he whispers, “Can I,” he pauses for a moment as he leans his face closer to her, her back meets a pillar behind her, so he raises his arm and bends it, the side of his forearm leaning against the pillar right above her head, “come closer to you like this?” HIs face was maybe two inches away from hers, and without even her cheeks heating up first, she took a deep breath in and nodded.

_ “Mama! I’m going to go play outside with Jade!” _

_ “Okay, dear! Stay close to the house okay?” the little girl hears her mother call back out to her, so she ran outside where her best friend was, waiting for her. _

_ Alanna approached Jade and smiled. “Hi, do you have an idea for what you want to do today?” but Jade shrugged. _

_ “No idea,” said Jade, “but we have to play with my older brother today since my parents are away at the market, and he’s stuck here babysitting me,” she pouted as she crossed her arms. At this point in time, Jade wasn’t very fond of her older brother, as she wanted adventure, and he wanted her to stay home and read a book. He wanted to protect her, like he wanted to protect his parents and his Kingdom as well. _

_ Alanna hummed, and with her hands on her hips, she watched as the older boy headed over to them. “Hi!” she smiled at him, “I’m Alanna,” she introduced herself.  _

**“I’m Alanna,” she smiled back at him. His demeanor shifted to a surprised one, similar to Alanna’s first expression when she saw him for the first time, that damn smile of his for the first time.**

**_. . . she forgot him._ **

_ Jade’s brother grinned, “I’m—”  _

_ “So, can we go to the forest?” Little Jade, always wanting adventure. Unlike how she was now in the present day as all she wants is to marry and settle down. Sapnap grunted, but went along with it as he saw the other girl smile happily at her friend’s suggestion. _

_ “Let’s go!” Alanna took both Jade and Sapnap’s hands and they ran to the forest right behind Alanna’s house in the West Village, where she lived prior to moving to the North Village with her now deceased husband Schlatt.  _

_ Sapnap ran so he could still stay hand in hand with the girl he had only just met and knew the name of, even if she didn’t know his, even if she forgot about him later in her life. She knew of his existence, but forgot everything about him. He never became mad over that fast, because at the time and age, Alanna was a happy kid, a single child at the time before her brother was born just a couple years later. She had no one to play with, except Jade, and that one time in the forest together — it was the only time they ever spent time together before the carriage ride to King Dream’s castle. _

_ But that day — he knew that was the first day he loved her. Because other than just his Kingdom and his family he wanted to protect, he . . . wanted to protect her, too. _

Before he leaned in closer, he heard her faintly whisper to him, as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear but him, “I love you, too,” 

With that, Sapnap connected their lips again. Both pairs of eyes were glued shut as their lips moved against each other, connected like two jigsaw puzzle pieces. His fingers became tangled in her hair as her hands raised up to place themselves on his chest. 

In the far background, there stood a ghost, watching them with a saddened smile, holding onto another pillar, similar to the one Alanna was standing against. The ghost fixed his tie a bit, scratched one of his horns, and with a laugh, he whispered, “I’m glad you found another, Lana,” and the ghost dissolved into the air.

* * *

**song;** _devil town - cavetown_

“Hello, father.”

Philza stares at him from the opened doorway to the side room. “Wilbur,” he called out, “what the hell is all this?” his large wings are folded in behind his back out of fear and worry for what his son was doing.

Wilbur stepped back once with his right foot, turning his body to look at his father from the side. 

“Didn’t you hear Tommy?” Wilbur asked huskily. “You didn’t believe him,” he took his hand out of his pocket, holding something in his palm, “when you should’ve.”

Philza gulped roughly, “You— tell me it’s not true, tell me Tommy lied.” He begged, but Wilbur only began to chuckle darkly, then he became louder to the point he was cackling.

“Oh, dad,” Wilbur slowed his laughing down, his unoccupied hand placing itself on his stomach, “You really always want to see the best in people, always giving people a home, even if it was possible they were insane,” Wilbur clicked his tongue before he exhaled deeply, “though, for you, it was your only biological son who ended up being the bad guy.” He smirked.

Suddenly from his left hand, appears a pocket knife unfolding with an audible slash.

Philza gasps, “Wilbur, s-son,” he takes one step back, putting his hands out defensively. He could feel his heart racing inside him, it was like it was about to jump out of his chest, “think about what you’re doing, what could happen if you do this,” but Wilbur began to walk towards him a bit slowly, as if he was hesitating.

“Oh, father,” Wilbur guffawed, “it’s time for you to say goodbye,” Philza’s eyes began to dance, and he shook his head.

Wilbur smirked, his eyes glowing blood red.

“Say hi to ma for me, will ya?”


	9. Who’s to Blame?

**song;** _possibility - lykke li_

King Dream sets his cane down against the arm of his throne, slanted a bit. He takes his seat on the throne, leaning his back against the cushioned back of it. He grunts, knowing both George and Jorja had left already for the beginning of the second battle of this fire-consumed war. He had yet to speak or reconcile with his lover and his right hand man, but he felt in his heart that he shouldn’t — that if he did, he’d show vulnerability, and might lose this war. 

Through the large windows on the other side of the room, he could faintly see the two countries lining up on the hills of the fields, holding their weapons closely to them in their hands. He could hear the horns play from the top of the castle’s borders. King Dream looks over to the entrance as the doors push open, and then he scoffs, realizing who it was.

“So you stayed to your word, eh?” 

There stood the pink, long-haired Pig King of L’Manberg, King Technoblade, who most only called King Techno, or even Pig King, because it was easier. But, King Dream despised him, loathed him more than anyone else in the world, so out of disrespect, he called him a Hog.

King Techno let out a sarcastic laugh, “Ah, you cocky bastard,” 

The other King stared with a glare underneath his mask, though king Techno could feel it, so he continued out of spite.

“You are a bastard, correct?” King Techno remarked, “Are you an unpleasant, or even despicable person unlike what you show your people? Like you’re some actor and they’re your audience. Not really treating them with any respect, but when have you ever treated anyone with respect?” He was hitting the exact right buttons for King Dream, making him feel more angry every time he finished a sentence, “Or are you simply no longer the pure son of the original King of Pogtopia? Your father, I may clarify.”

Out of everything he knew about King Dream, the one that pissed that King off the most was mentioning his father to him, even comparing him to that tyrant of a man, but King Techno wasn’t wrong about how King Dream had became his father, even if the Pogtopia King didn’t want to admit it, or even agree.

“Quit talking about my father,” King Dream demanded sternly, “you knew him better than I ever did, so why must you remind me of him? And what he’s done?”

King Techno scoffed, “Oh, Clay.”

The Pig King was in good partnership with Clay’s father years ago, before the man passed away when the new King Dream, his son, was only about nineteen, a couple days after the birth of Clay’s son, Alex, or now Prince Quackity. At that time, King Techno himself was about 24 at the time, which makes him 40 years old now, though he still looked as young as ever from some potion Wilbur’s fiance, Erin, had lended him a while back.

Clay, as King Dream’s real name, was something he hated because that was all his father ever referred to him by, which he learned to hate from how he was never called a Prince or even a duke. Just “Clay.” King Techno, well, he was named ‘Technoblade’ at birth. Though, to be quite honest, Techno deeply cared about Clay, as he was good friends with Clay’s father until his sudden demise, which drove Clay to hating Techno, and even thinking the Pig King had killed his father, Techno’s own close friend, his own mentor.

Clay never realized how bad his mindset had become because of that, and ever since his father’s demise, he’s worn that pure white mask with a smiley face on top that moved along with his own facial expressions behind that mask.

Now, Techno — he was Clay’s own mentor, like Clay’s father had been to Techno all those years ago. Sixteen years since Clay’s father had died, sixteen years since he refused to learn the real truth from the ghost of his father in the Heaven’s Cavern, but Techno did. He knew what had happened, but never spoke to Clay about it, as he knew he would ignore the older King.

Techno pushed his cape back to place his hand on his left hip. “You are so full of yourself — you know that, right?”

“Why don’t you just go?” Clay asked, “The war has begun, they’ve begun to fight. You can see it through the damn window!” He exclaimed, leaning forward as he pointed to the large window that he saw the fighting from before, but Techno didn’t even glance.

“I’m only here for what you want,” Techno replied, and Clay leaned back again. He gently takes off his cape, unbuttoning it before he tossed it onto the floor to his left. A bow and a quiver sat on his back, previously hidden from the cape that covered it. Techno takes his bow from off his back, taking an arrow out of the quiver that sat on his back. He pulls back the string of the bow, placing the bow into the bow, before aiming it at Clay, “so get up off your ass and fight for what you want.”

He tilted the bow up, shooting the arrow right above Clay’s head, hitting his round, large green crown. The round part had gotten hit by the arrow, so it took it off of Clay’s head and pinned it to the top of the throne behind him. 

Techno smiled at him.

“Killing me is what you want, right?”

* * *

**song;** _possibility - lykke li_

“I’m not going to fight you, Wilbur.”

Wilbur guffaws, “Oh why not, father?” He asks with a croaking voice, “why won’t you fight me? You’ve fought Tommy before, even our little brother Tubbo,”

Tubbo — Tubbo was one of the two adopted sons of Philza, and he was taken under King Techno’s wing when he was much younger, about a year after Philza adopted him. Techno took care of him, but let Philza train him for battle, as he believed Tubbo’s training should come from his father, not his mentor, even if Tubbo became the Prince of L’Manberg.

Philza’s eyes are still dancing, “I— because I was training them — you didn’t need training! You had your own training with King Techno, you didn’t need training with an old man like me!” He let out a laugh, though it felt awkward, “I’m sorry, but I won’t fight you, and I won’t let you kill me either. I want to be there for my sons. Tommy, Tubbo — you! I want to be there for my sons as they grow up, and I can’t do such a thing if you kill me.”

Wilbur looked away, “Doesn’t matter,” said the curly haired brunette, staring at his father with those bloodshot eyes, “you deserve to die.”

Philza shook his head, and Wilbur threw his pocket knife into the air, whispering a short chant and the pocket knife transformed into a sword. He knew his son was good with magic, from his lover, Erin, who was the Spymaster of L’Manberg. The light from the doorway reflected onto the sword as he caught it so easily in his hand. 

That moment, he could hear a voice in his head, similar to the times this had happened before, and as he listened — he clicked his tongue and nodded, confusing Philza.

**_K i L L_ **

**_H i M_ **

**_W i L B u R_ **

Wilbur smirked, and Philza felt his heart drop.

“You’ll get what you deserved for letting Mother die.”

* * *

**song;** _survivor - 2wei & edda hayes_

The sun was as bright as a midnight star, but the sky was gray, turning a dark gray. The wind was gentle, it didn’t blow too hard, but it was enough for her hair to fly in it. Alanna slashed her sword across a soldier’s chest, killing him as she ran through the fields, trying to kill as many soldiers as she could, even if she knew that no matter the amount of worthless soldiers she kills, it’d never be enough to avenge Schlatt.

It was a good 30-45 minutes into the second battle of the war now. Alanna looked around quickly, trying to find the King of L’Manberg, but found no trace of him. She furrowed her eyebrows, squinting her eyes, but found nothing of the Pig King. Alanna grunts, and she stops running, climbing onto this large, tilted rock that she could easily stand on. She watches as the others fight against the other country, the soldiers of Pogtopia fighting hard against the soldiers of L’Manberg. Then she saw him.

A boy holding a bow, shooting arrows at Pogtopia soldiers, and hitting them like targets with ease. He had brown hair and porcelain skin, his face was child-like, he was young — not a year older than Karl, she could easily see that. The way he used that bow — it was so similar to Schlatt, when he was a general. He would use his bow and shoot arrows like he had been doing it since birth. Which is when she remembered.

_“You’re an alcoholic at age 17, Schlatt,”_

_Schlatt shrugged carelessly, downing huge gulps of his alcoholic beverage, which was just a cold beer bottle that was now empty. “Alcoholic or not, I’m still here and you love me,” he gives his wife a slurring smile, but she rolled her eyes._

_The two had been married for a year now, and they already had a son. An infant with a head full of brown hair, little dark brown eyes and a little nose. The perfect son, too similar to his father, but Schlatt knew he’d grow to be kind like his mother._

_He wouldn’t be like his father. Hopefully._

_Schlatt chuckles, “You think the little one will be handsome? Like me?”_

_Alanna chuckled, shaking her head as she cleaned the dishes. “Possibly,” but Schlatt, even though he’s almost black out drunk, turns to her with a disgusted look._

_“Possibly? Hell yeah he’ll be as handsome as me!” He then hummed, “Well, probably not just as handsome as me. More like . . . slightly less.” He was full of himself, that was obvious._

_There was a knock at the door, Alanna leaned back as she called out to her husband in the other room, which was the living room as he sat on the couch, his limbs spread out as he sat there, watching as the little infant played with the alphabetical blocks in front of him._

_“Hon, could you get that?”_

_Schlatt groaned, “But baby, I— fine.” He stands up and heads over to the door, twisting the doorknob and pulling the door open. “Hello, this is the Schlatt residence, I am J. Schlatt,” you could smell the alcohol on his breath from a mile away._

_There stood two soldiers, standing in a formal way, their hands behind their back._

_“Yes, Mr. Schlatt,” said one soldier, “we have found that you have become an alcoholic,” and with sudden wide eyes, Schlatt, with his bottle in hand, throws it against the wall, but the soldiers only heard it breaking from beyond the slightly open door as Schlatt stood between the opened front door and the doorway._

_“N-no,” he knew being an alcoholic could get his kid taken away, but Alanna didn’t — and he could never tell her why. “Definitely not—” but then the soldiers pushed past him, “Oh, come on guys, please— I work for you guys—”_

_“Well, be glad this is the only punishment you get for this,” the soldier snapped at him, and Alanna walked into the room, a confused look on her face, wiping a dish clean in her hands._

_“What’s going on?” asks Alanna, and the soldier turned around as the other picked up the infant from the floor, “What’re you doing to my baby?”_

_The soldier cleared his throat, and opened his mouth to speak, but Schlatt placed his hand on his shoulder, causing him to stay quiet as the young, horned general began to speak._

_“I made a terrible mistake,” said Schlatt in a low, regretful tone, “and they’re punishing us for it.” He took his hand off the soldier’s shoulder, and he walked over to his wife, bringing her into a tight embrace as he whispered, “I’m so sorry about this, love.”_

_There were uncontrollable tears streaming down Alanna’s face now, sure to stain her red cheeks. She looked flushed, upset, saddened. She didn’t know how to react, she didn’t even have time to react as the soldier took the infant out of the house._

_The other soldier bowed, “I’m sorry,” and he headed out of the house, too._

_She forgave Schlatt, but she never knew the real reason why Schlatt stopped drinking so suddenly, and why their first son was taken from them until after Schlatt’s death. They had Karl a year later, and raised him the way they wanted to raise their first son. The one they let down._

_The one Schlatt let down._

She knew his name — his real name. Not the one he went by to protect his identity, to protect him from his real parents finding him, even though he was taken to the opposite kingdom where Alanna would never know he was ever there. She remembered that day she saw him. It was the day Schlatt died, in the market before she ran off to help the victims. 

Those horns of his — they were just like Schlatt’s.

He looked so much like his father.

“Tubbo!”

She screamed as loud as she could, her voice echoing through the fields. Everyone heard her, even him. He stopped, and turned to face her, and so did everyone else. 

Her eyes were tear filled, and she continued to shout out to him. “You were taken from your real parents all those years ago, when you were just an infant. You hadn’t even seen the world yet and they took you away, gave you to some man in L’Manberg, just because the Kingdom had a law against alcoholic parents. Sure, it’s a good thing but—” she laughed, “—you were taken from me and your father.”

Tubbo stared at her, his jaw agape.

“Your horns — they are the same as your father, and sure he made mistakes, but he still loved you more than anything. And he tried constantly to get you back,” she hitched her breath, “I know I never contacted you, but I honestly thought you were dead. I couldn’t find you, and neither could Schlatt, and I am so sorry we let you down.”

The boy lowered his head, and for a moment he was quiet, but then he spoke up.

“You two did nothing wrong,” said Tubbo, “I should’ve tried to find you instead of stay there in L’Manberg, but it’s better there, Mother,” he spoke with sincerity, “trust me on that.”

She furrowed her eyebrows at him, but before she could question what he meant, she felt a sharp pain in her back. A sword had stabbed her through her back, she could feel the blood trailing down her body.

There were inaudible screams to her, she could see all of their faces change into ones of pain and anger, but nothing was as painful as being stabbed by a large sword.

But then she heard a dark chuckle from next to her ear.

“It’s time for your demise, Lana.”  
  


* * *

**song;** _survivor - 2wei & edda hayes _

“Fucking hell— you’ve gotten better!”

Clay grunted, “Oh, shut your yapping and fight!” He shouted at the Pig King, clashing their swords together. Techno keeps his position, smiling at the younger king.

He takes in a deep breath, stepping back as he keeps his sword against Clay’s. His crossbow was thrown off somewhere on the floor on the other side of the room — he couldn’t figure out a way to get to it without getting stabbed in the back by the Pogtopia King.

Except one way, which meant he had to take a huge risk.

He knew Clay a little too well, even if the younger wanted to only kill him for what he believed, though it was not true. Techno didn’t kill his father, he was told that by the ghost himself, but Clay refused to go see that ghost, to say his goodbye. Instead he stayed in the castle, hunched over with his knees to his chest with his back against the wall, crying for hours, wishing he could’ve done something more for his father. But, that wasn’t the real issue there.

Clay was . . . different than what he used to be, in a much worse way. Ever since Clay’s inauguration all those years ago, in which Techno attended on behalf of Clay and the loss of Clay’s father, who was a dear friend to Techno, even if Clay only saw Techno as a mentor, not his own dad. Clay was different, he was smiling at the inauguration, a bit too much for a young adult who had just lost his father and is now becoming King of an entire country.

Just a day later, King Dream cut ties with Techno and all of L’Manberg. He claimed it was only because he didn’t want to continue his father’s miserable reign as King, but really it was because he had grown to despise Techno, believing his own mentor killed his father.

It was sudden, a definite surprise to the Pig King, though he wasn’t disappointed. He understood his dear friend’s grief, but he couldn’t bear to imagine what was going on inside Clay’s head.

Techno pushed his sword forward, making Clay step back, almost falling back but he caught himself. Techno grunted, “You should be honest with yourself, Clay,” said Techno, “you aren’t the same as you were, but you’re not better either.”

Clay became offended as he panted, standing there with his hunched over back, holding his sword a bit loosely in his hands as the end of the blade sat on the ground. “You don’t know me.” He stated, “Don’t act like you know me, Techno.”

“Oh, but I do know you, Clay,” said Techno devilishly. “You were my friend’s son, even an unrelated nephew of mine, despite our only 5 year difference in age. We could’ve been like brothers, you and i. A family,” Techno raised his sword above his head, “a better one than the one your father created just so he could rule a country that he was soon to destroy.”

Techno swings his sword, but Clay dodges, the sword cuts the mask in half, and it cuts the King’s cheek up to right above his eyebrow, causing Clay to scream out in pain. His hand clutches his face, his skin becoming covered in blood. Techno stands there — he didn’t know what to do. He stood there in shock, Clay screaming out in agony, and suddenly the entrance doors pushed open.

There enters George and Jorja, wanting to see what was going on as they had heard screaming from inside the throne room. Jorja gasps and covers her mouth, and then tears were streaming down her face, but she fell to her knees, unable to move. George practically sprinted to Clay, grabbing his face, trying to get a good look at the cut. Clay was crying out, his tears burned the opened wound on his face, but he continued to wail. 

George turned to look at Techno — he didn’t even realize it was him until he looked at him — “You . . . did you . . . do this?” George whispered, though Techno heard him clearly.

Techno was frozen in his stance, “I . . . I did . . . b-but—”

George spoke up, “Get out of here,” he ordered the Pig King, “but,” he then became silent, so he mouthed to Techno, “thank you,” and with a confused expression, Techno ran off.

George turned back to Clay, stroking his face as he held Clay against his chest, his shirt soaking with his King’s blood. With a gentle huff, he raised his voice to speak to Jorja.

“Jorja,” he called out, “are you still there?”

Jorja looked up, sniffling as she tried to calm her sobs. “Y-Yes,” she replied.

George turned his head to the right, “Go get one of the maids and a First Aid Kit,” he instructed the wife of the King, “we have to suture his cut so he doesn’t bleed out.”

Jorja stood up and quickly headed out of the room, and George continued to hold Clay in his arms. He had now become unconscious, but his chest lifted with every breath he took. George’s grip tightened a bit, and he leaned his hand over, taking the rest of Clay’s mask off of his bloody face. The rest of the mask was somewhere on the floor of the throne room, but he didn’t care. He was happy to see Clay without a mask, though he wished the situation was different. As Clay breathed gently, his eyes closed as his body went limp while he was passed out, George admired him, brushing his blood stained bangs out of the King’s face.

Soon, Jorja entered the room again with one of the maids and a First Aid kit in her hand. They quickly approached George and Clay, kneeling next to them. The maid took out a little suture kit out of the First Aid kit.

After a few minutes pass by, the maid is continuing to carefully suture Clay’s wound, as he’s unconscious. George holds him in his arms so the maid could easily suture him up. Jorja sits a bit away from the three, her legs crossed over each other. She pushed back her hair, and George turned to her.

“I’m sorry about Clay,” said George quietly, “and what I told you. I really thought you knew, or at least thought of it.” He was referring to how just hours prior to then, George and Jorja had sat alone near the fountain, waiting for the second battle to start as they chatted. This was when George let it slip, and Jorja was furious, but George convinced her to wait to confront him until at least the second battle died down.

Jorja sighed, “He fell out of love with me,” she said without a care in the world, “it’s not the end of the world. I should’ve seen it coming.” 

George felt bad for the Queen, even worse than what he presented to her at that moment. “Look, Jorja, there’s something I need to tell you—”

The entrance doors burst open, and there stands Kara and Prince Quackity, hand in hand as Karl, Fundy, and Camille all stand behind them for protection. “We heard screaming,” said Kara in a panic, “is everyone okay—”

“Dad!” Quackity ran over to his father who still laid there unconscious in George’s arms. The maid had just parted ways with them after she had finished suturing the King’s wound. “Dad!” He held his dad’s face, looking up at George, “What happened to him? What happened to his mask?” Funny how his own son worried more about what happened to his mask than whether his father was dead or not.

“He—”

“He fought King Techno,” said Jorja, interrupting George of his attempt to explain to the Prince, “his mask was cut in half, and the sword cut his face badly. One of the maids sutured him and now he’s only resting. He’s been unconscious for a while now, but he’s still alive.”

Quackity stood up, but instead of running to his mother, he ran back to Kara, hugging her tightly as she patted his back, holding him comfortingly. Jorja sighed and smiled. Her son was growing up, but she knew she couldn’t think about that.

There were more important matters at stake right now. Clay was okay, but Techno was nowhere to be found, and they didn’t know of what had occurred in those fields in battle now. 

It was only a matter of time before this world came crashing down.

It seemed to be starting now.

* * *

**song;** _survivor - 2wei & edda hayes_

_(continued)_

“Dammit,”

Philza grunted as he stood against the wall, holding his arm that had a small, open cut from Wilbur’s sword. He managed to make Wilbur back off as he had gotten his son to slip and painfully hit his head on the concrete floor, which caused his way of getting up much slower.

He was bleeding fast, so he had to bandage himself with his scarf as he had not seen any bandages laying around in that side room where they two fought, and continued to fight. Wilbur stood up, grabbing onto the wooden table. Philza ties the scarf tightly around his bleeding wound, trying to stop, or at least slow, the bleeding. Philza grabs a hanging sword from the wall, as Wilbur steadies his balance. 

Philza meets eyes with his eldest son, “I never killed your mother, Will.”

The light from the other room flickered, only Wilbur’s glowing red eyes were visible in the quick second of darkness. The sword flashed the light’s reflection on the shiny, silver shard. 

“You let her die, Father,” Wilbur said huskily, “you let that tyrant of a King kill her in cold blood.”

Philza raised his eyebrows, “Techno didn’t kill her, and I didn’t either,” he told his son firmly, “It was her choice to go into battle — why would our own King kill one of our own?”

“Because he’s a tyrant!” Wilbur exclaimed, “A fucking pig!”

“You really hate King Techno that much? Then why did you become the general? It makes no sense, Wilbur— just like how you want to—”

“To kill everyone?” Wilbur laughed, “Right, yeah.” He raised his sword and pointed it to his father, “You really want to know why I want to kill everyone in this god forsaken world?”

Wilbur became quiet.

“You and the others,” the L’Manberg General began to speak a bit slowly, “you may look at me and think I’m going crazy,” he let out a short, more forced laugh, “but you see, I lost myself long ago, and soon, I’ll lose everyone, too.”

Philza’s breathing was slowing, and he didn’t know exactly how to respond, or even if he should or not. Wilbur tilted his sword to the left, and did the same to his head, cocking it to the left. His own son was aiming a sword at him, he couldn’t process it. Philza felt his heart beating faster, sweat streaming down his face. 

His son was ill, he should’ve done something about it years ago, when he first started showing the signs. The signs Philza chose to ignore just because he didn’t want to believe his own son could be such a . . . psychopath.

“I wanted to kill everyone so they’d all be happy,” said Wilbur, “Call me the Angel of Death or whatever you like, but just know that by the end of today, I will make it my duty to kill every single person on this world,” Wilbur chuckled, “even if it means I have to kill you first.”

He swings his sword, but Philza quickly raises his own sword to block the slash, but it bounces off so Philza shuts his eyes and turns away, but only hears the tearing of skin and a sudden deep voiced screech. He opened his eyes, but only saw a glimpse of a figure — his son — leaving the room at a quick pace. But once Philza regained his posture, no longer hearing the screams, he looked around, seeing the light still shining into the dark room.

There was blood everywhere — thick, dark red fluid covered the floor in small to large splotches. It was a mess, but that didn’t catch Phil’s eye. What did was the cut off arm lying on the floor in a puddle of blood.

* * *

**song;** _city of the dead - eurielle_

Chrisalyn took one cup out of the cupboard, stepping over to the sink, filling up the cup halfway with water after she turned the handle on the faucet. She looked over to the table, seeing the boy she loved sitting there with his head down on his crossed arms. The two, along with the rest of the civilians, were all in this huge underground city-like bunker that the country of L’Manberg used strictly for emergencies — in this case, the war. Each little housing in that bunker was the same exact apartment-like place for each family in the kingdom. There was enough for everyone, even a couple extras were there. 

It was a smart idea, but Chrisalyn was never fond of how the apartments looked. They were too bland, too basic. She wanted more colors, there was only really brown and white, some black. It was bland, unlike him.

Ranboo lifted his head up as Chrisalyn set the cup of water in front of him on the table.

“Thank you, darling,” he sat up and took the cup, taking a sip. Chrisalyn stands there behind a chair across from him at the table. He glances up at her, noticing her stare. “What?”

Chrisalyn sighs, “I think you should go fight,” 

Ranboo scoffed, “What’re you talking about?” He was ordered to stay with Chrisalyn, the princess, in the apartments until the battle had ended, but it seemed like Chrisalyn had other plans. “You— You better not be talking about what I think you’re talking about.”

“I want you and I to go fight,” 

“You’re joking, right?”

“No,” Chrisalyn thins her lips, “I want to go fight in the battle. Now.”

Ranboo shakes his head, “Hell no,” he replies, “You could die, Chrisa! I’m not letting you fight in the damn war! You’re 17—”

“You’re only a few months older than me,” said Chrisa, “and you fought in the first battle.” 

The male’s jaw drops, “But I’m not fighting in this one because I have to protect you! You could— You could—” He struggled to remember, but Chrisalyn knew what he was going to say.

“I could get kidnapped again?” Chrisalyn finished his sentence with a question, “I’m fine, and I will defend myself. I am going to fight today in the war, Ranboo.”

Ranboo’s head began to pound, a migraine? What the hell?

“N-No,” Ranboo struggled to speak for a second, his hand raising to his head, “You c-can’t, and I won’t be f-fighting either.”

Chrisalyn grunted, “Ranboo, please,” she begged, “I know you want to protect me, but I want to protect my city, my brother! And my sister! I have to do this!”

Niki, the witch of the Kingdom of L’Manberg. She was kind and sweet, very soft-spoken, even if her title was a Witch. She cared for others a lot, she made it her duty to help them.

Ranboo shook his head, even if it pained him more to do so. “N-No,”

Chrisalyn furrowed her eyebrows, “Ranboo, are you alright?” 

There was a pain in his stomach and his back, like someone had stabbed him. He remembered something he shouldn’t have forgotten. Endermen, a secret power of theirs is that they can feel certain emotions and even pain as the ones they loved. It happens out of nowhere if you have no control over it, like Ranboo. Then he opened his eyes and only saw a vision.

A vision of his own sister being stabbed by a large sword.

Without a second of hesitation, Ranboo stood up and grabbed his sword from the closet. Confused, Chrisalyn watches him with a tilted head. “Ranboo . . . ?”

Ranboo turned back to her, and with a smile, he spoke to her.

“Let’s go fucking fight.”

* * *

**song:** _perfect day - lou reed_

“It’s time for your demise, Lana.”

Alanna grunted, choking out words that were indistinguishable. Blood dripped from her mouth, her hands holding the sword that pierced through her body. All she heard was silence, faint shouting and screaming, even if it was only twenty feet away from her. But she heard that voice, that voice next to her ear. So familiar, such hurtful words.

But she spoke, “E-Erin,” she hissed at the pain as she felt the sword pulling back slowly, “h-how could y-you - y-you d-do thi-is?” 

Erin tilted her head, holding onto the older woman’s shoulder as the other hand pulled the sword slowly out of Alanna’s back, “It’s simple, really.”

Alanna then yelled out in pain as Erin pulled the sword out of her completely. She let go of Alanna, letting her fall off the plateau-like rock. Erin, with hopes that Alanna was dead and not a care if someone had caught the woman, begins to walk off the rock, only to get an arrow almost hitting her. She stops and turns, finding a man aiming a bow at her with narrow eyes full of hate and anger, but she stood there, confused. 

“K-King Techno, w-what a-are you doing?” Erin asked, but King Techno looked down as he shook his head at her, disappointed in her. He turns away, and runs off, continuing to fight, even though he had just almost (purposely) hit one of his own civilians, the fiance of his general, the spymaster of the Kingdom.

Sapnap had caught Alanna, holding her in his arms as she bled out.

“No, no, no, no,” Sapnap said quickly, panicking, “You aren’t going to die on me today, Lana,” he whispered. He lies her gently on the ground in front of him, then takes his shirt off quickly and presses it against her wound. The white, though slightly dirty, shirt is now absorbing the blood, but the blood won’t stop. She’s bleeding out fast, and it didn’t look like she’d make it.

A boy runs over to them, sitting on his knees on the other side of Alanna, and he grabs Sapnap’s hand, causing him to look up at the boy with wide eyes. 

“W-What are you d-doing here?” He asked the boy — who wasn’t supposed to be out there at all, “Are you w-wanting to kill h-her?” Of course, that was the first thing he wanted to know as the boy gestured for him to take his hand away from her.

The boy shook his head, “No,” he spoke, “but trust me, ‘kay?” 

Sapnap hesitates, but he lets the boy tear his hand away from the bloody shirt over Alanna’s wound, and with a gentle placement of the boy’s hand on it, a red and white glow begins to appear from his hand. Sapnap’s eyes widen even more, and some of the others look over. The fighting around them began to slow and stop, but the ones in the far distance continued. The boy’s hand turned pure white, but only up to his wrist as now the wound was glowing red and white like his inner hand. 

Alanna’s labored breathing became regular, and she coughs harshly, spitting up some blood onto the ground next to her. The wound was healed, almost completely gone, and the boy turned to Alanna, who looked back and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Oh, my darling,” she whispered with tear-filled eyes, “Karl . . . You saved me.”

Karl, the boy with his little horns, hugs back, “I learned from Papa,” he spoke to her gently, “He taught me so I could protect you in the future.” 

Schlatt knew Alanna was a White Wither Human, and he knew Karl had her blood. He taught him how to heal others, how to protect his mother if Schlatt wasn’t there to do so. It gave Alanna a feeling that maybe, Schlatt knew he was going to die — just not when. Maybe that was one of his powers as the son of Lucifer, but all she could think about was how her youngest son, the one who seemed less like his father, was even more like his father, in the best way possible.

Alanna pulls back from the hug, kissing her son’s forehead, “Take care, okay?” She whispers to him, “Go with Sapnap to one of the shelters,” she instructed her son, “I have business to take care of,” then she turns to her lover, “after you take him there, make sure to meet with me.”

Sapnap nods, but then he asks, “What are you doing to do?”

Alanna stands up, brushing her clothes off a bit from the grass and dirt. 

“Like I said,” she said as she turned, “I have business to take care of.”

Sapnap obliged to her instructions and guided Karl back to the shelters. Alanna heads off, and finds Erin standing near a tree, watching the war go on just before her eyes. With a smile, thinking Alanna was dead, she sighed, and placed her hands on her hips, but Alanna pulled out her katana (a long, thin sword), it created a clean slashing noise.

Erin turns, and gasps. “A-Alanna, ho-how are you—”

“Are you asking me how I’m still alive?” She cocks her head to the right, “You forgot one thing, dear Erin,” she grips the handle of her katana tightly, “I created a family of healers, a family of White Wither Humans like myself,” then she chuckles, “and if you are anything like your brother, that would make you what? The daughter of Lucifer?” She made her voice sound bitchy, cocky and intimidating as she berated Erin subtly. 

Erin opens her mouth to reply, but then Alanna speaks again.

“You were always so jealous of him,” said Alanna, “he was the role model child, while you were just nothing,” then she smirks, “it’s simple, really.”

Erin growls, pulling out her still bloody sword, running towards the woman, slashing their swords together. Alanna blocks it, and holds her ground. 

“All that built up anger,” she spoke, “what feeds it, huh? Is it your—” she pushes her katana against Erin’s, causing the younger woman to step back and regain her balance, “—huge ego that makes you believe you’ve gotta be better than everyone?”

“No!” Erin said, but Alanna didn’t buy it.

“Just because your brother was better than you, you have to take it out on me?” Alanna was pushing all the right buttons, she needed to know what made Erin change and leave Pogtopia. “Quit being stupid, Erin. You’re nothing like your brother, and the only way you’ll be anything like him is if you’re dead, too.”

That’s when Erin snapped.

From her belt, she takes off a splashing potion and throws it in Alanna’s direction, but she jumps back, missing it by just centimeters. Erin cursed under her breath. “I see you’re better at dodging,” said Erin, “Maybe you should try running into the potion!” She throws another potion, but it only hits Alanna’s leg, though she quickly heals it and blocks the spread of the potion, which was slowness.

Erin growls, but then she composes herself. “You’re a fucking bitch,” she insulted the woman, but she only cackled.

“Really? Is that all you got?” Alanna clicked her tongue, panting slightly, “Come on, Erin, I thought you were better at insulting others, getting under their skin,” she raises her katana, “you were really trying to be just as bad as your brother became all those years ago, but really,” Alanna pointed her katana at her former sister-in-law, “you were just trying to grab some, even just a pinch, of the spotlight that always shined on your brother— my husband who is now dead because of your Kingdom!” She shouts at Erin.

Erin stared for a moment, then she began to guffaw. 

“You— You’re joking, right?” Erin continued to laugh, “You— You actually think L’Manberg would kill Schlatt?” The younger woman took her sword and swung it around, “You’ve gotta be the dumbest bitch to think that.” She said in disbelief, “You see, because why would his own family kill one of their own? If it wasn’t us, and it wasn’t your precious kingdom,” her eyes were narrowed — shadowed — at her, “then wouldn’t it be you to be the killer?”

Alanna furrowed her eyebrows, she was taken back. “What?” She shook her head, “You think I killed Schlatt? My own husband?”

Erin shrugged, “Sure, but whether it was you or someone else,” she raised her hand, twisting her wrist quickly and sparks began to show from the palm of her hand, she was L’Manberg’s Spymaster for a reason. She aimed her now open palm at Alanna, the sparks getting bigger and bigger, “It was still your fault Schlatt’s gone.”

A large beam is shot at Alanna, but she puts up her arms in a cross shape, the only way she could possibly think of to block her from being hit in such little time. But it doesn’t hit her, as after a couple moments of nothing happening, she opens her eyes and sees that she was no longer in front of Erin, but instead behind her. She had teleported.

Staying quiet, Alanna reaches her hand out for her katana that was in the same spot she had dropped it when the beam shot at her, but with a pained look, praying and praying that it would come to her hand. Before it could, Erin turns around with a grunt, kicking Alanna down onto the ground, so familiar to when she was bleeding out on the ground just moments prior to this moment, both times because of Schlatt’s sister.

Erin had already thrived to be like her brother, though she was stubborn so she never admitted it. She hated how good Schlatt was, how loved he was, unlike her. Little lonely Erin. She grew apart from her brother, yet she knew almost everything about him. Hell, she was the one who encouraged him to work with Wilbur, even if she had never met him until after Schlatt’s death, and she never found out it was Wilbur who was Schlatt’s business partner behind the scenes, and most especially, she didn’t know of Wilbur’s failed plan to kill Schlatt.

Erin had a grip on Alanna’s shirt, clutching it in her hands as she pushed the older woman down on the ground, keeping her there. “You never loved him as much as I did,” she spoke with a growl in her voice, “You took him away from me. You took him away from his home!”

Alanna opened her mouth to speak, “Your parents wanted me to marry—”

“Who fucking cares?” Erin interrupted the woman’s correction, “You still took him away from me, my own brother. You knew how much I cared for him, and you took him away from L’Manberg— and I know I came with you two, but you still— You still let him fucking die!” 

Erin was showing her true colors now. Her pain, her sorrow. The emotions she was never able to show until now. She wasn’t crying, but her voice sounded like she was.

Alanna coughed, Erin had a tough grip on her shirt, keeping her pinned to the ground.

“You were like a sister to me, Erin,” Alanna choked out, “and Schlatt— he was my best friend— I-I’d never hurt him in my life,” but Erin shook her head, now the tears were forming.

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!” Erin shouted at her, “You killed my brother!” She took a knife out from her belt, pointing the end at Alanna’s chest. “It doesn’t matter if you didn’t do it physically, or even if it wasn’t your fault entirely,” Erin’s breath hitched, and the knife lowered, “you still killed him inside.”

Before the knife even touched the skin on Alanna’s chest, which it didn’t, Erin stops, the slash of a sword and the grossening noise of skin tearing. But Alanna was fine. She didn’t have a scratch on her from that knife, but it fell onto her chest, as all she could do was stare into Erin’s wide eyes. Blood was dripping from her shirt that was now soaking in it.

Alanna had her hands gripping Erin, keeping her up off of her, but just staring at her face as the younger female’s body went limp, Alanna knew she’d never forget those eyes of hers. Those now lifeless blue eyes of her former best friend and sister-in-law. Her deceased husband’s sister now gone so quickly. Her best friend who she lost.

At least now, Erin would have something in common with her brother once again.


	10. The Truth

**song;** _can you feel my_

_ heart - bring me the horizon _

“George, get out of my way.”

“No,” George replied to the King, standing in front of the entrance doors to the throne room. The battle was getting worse, and Clay wanted to go help, but George didn’t want him to. He had just suffered from a huge cut, that was now sutured, but ready to burst open if Clay moves too fast or too frequently. “You need to rest — you’re hurt, Clay.”

“Stop calling me that,” Clay said, but George shook his head.

Jorja stood back with the children, her son and his girlfriend, standing just a few feet in front of the line of four thrones. From the right to the left, it’s Quackity, George, Clay, and Jorja. It had furiated Jorja once before of how George had his own throne, when he was just the King’s right hand man, no place in royalty, but Clay allowed it. He cared much about George, but Jorja couldn’t find herself wanting to know why. She had lost care in the situation.

George’s breath hitched, “Clay, please, just listen to me—”

“I said stop calling me that!” Clay shouted, grabbing George and throwing him to the ground, pushing the doors open and heading out of the throne room. Clay walked down the steps, but George was small and quick, so he got up just like that and hurried to catch up.

“Clay!” George called out, running down the steps, though carefully, watching as Clay took a sword, a bow, and a quiver of arrows from a couple of guards, heading out of the Kingdom. “Clay— Clay . . .” George panted, bending over with his hands on his knees. 

Jorja approaches George with Kara and Quackity, the kids inside the throne room with one of the maids, and the Queen places a hand on George’s back. “We have to tell them all,” Jorja said to him, and George, after a moment, nods in agreement.

The four had all dressed in armor and weapons, heading out of the kingdom and to the fields where the second battle of the war between L’Manberg and Pogtopia was worsening. Kara, with a short gasp, covers her mouth, “I’m not sure I can do this,” she whispered to herself.

Quackity took her other hand, and the girl turned to him almost immediately from the sudden touch, “It’s okay,” he reassured her, “I’ll be right by your side the entire time.”

Oddly, that convinced her. 

Jorja grips her sword, standing next to George. “Will you do it for me?” She asked him, and George stared off, though he heard her clearly. His eyes watched the King battling in the crowd of soldiers, fighting a couple L’Manberg soldiers even though he still searched for the Pig King, to get revenge for the car on his face, though he wore the rest of his mask, the part that was cut off was still sitting on the floor in the throne room. The rest of the mask showed the sutured cut perfectly, half of his face was showing. 

George nodded, and he raised his horn, blowing into it to get everyone’s attention. Everyone stops, and the yelling, the screaming, it becomes quiet. Silent, even. George lowered the horn and tossed it to the ground next to him. He held his sword, and then he shouted.

“People of L’Manberg and Pogtopia,” George shouts to them all, “I know you all want to protect your families from the opposing Kingdom, but you all have got it all wrong.”

Clay’s eyes widened in fear, “George, what are you doing . . . ?” He mutters.

George gulps, “King Dream started this war because he wanted to kill King Techno, which means . . .” 

Alanna had just sat Erin’s lifeless body against the tree where she stood once before, and Alanna stood back up, looking off to George and Jorja, Kara and Quackity at the top of the hill in front of the Kingdom’s gates. Sapnap was somewhere close to the tents, he had just left Karl there with one of the soldiers, and now he stood near BBH and Purpled as they listened to what George had to say. The others were spread out throughout the fields, and so were the people of L’Manberg, standing there as they listened to George.

George shudders, and Jorja rubs his back comfortingly, whispering “you got this” to him quietly, and George takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he opens them again and looks back at the large crowd of soldiers and fighters of both Kingdoms.

“It means the attacks on Pogtopia’s villages were not from L’Manberg,” George began to say, “they were from King Dream himself.”

Some gasp, even a couple people faint. Alanna felt her heart break. She trusted the King, but now she knew — everyone knew —that it was him. He killed so many people just so he could kill the King of L’Manberg. He . . .

_ “I don’t quite know who did it,” Schlatt admitted, sliding his hands into his pockets, “I just know someone stabbed me in the back when I was trying to leave the house when it was on fire. I fell to the ground and someone dragged me back upstairs and left me there to burn to death.” _

He killed Schlatt.

_ “Fuck, what’s that smell?” _

_ Schlatt sniffed around, sitting up in bed. He glances around, seeing a light smoke filling the air. He tilts his head, throwing off his blanket and he runs to the door, turning it and pushes it open. The ceiling was covered in fire, and the air was heating up more and more, filling the room with smoke. He headed downstairs, making sure he didn’t step on anything that may injure, or burn, him. He makes it to the front door, about to twist the doorknob and pull the door open when a knife meets his back. He screams out, holding onto the door.  _

_ A voice speaks from next to his ear, the knife continues to tear his skin as it goes up his back, “See you in hell, pal.” Schlatt grunts, choking on his own blood as his lungs filled with blood now. The killer took Schlatt as he fell, dragged him back upstairs and set him in bed once again, as if to lay him at rest, even if his now almost lifeless body was about to burn to ash. _

Alanna couldn’t breathe. She felt her throat closing as she held her chest. Her husband was murdered by her own King, a man who she trusted her life with. Someone who Schlatt protected and spent years with. He thought of King Dream as a brother, but he killed him. He murdered him and let him burn away, surrounded by nothing but fire and its embers. 

Clay took a step back, before he ran away, heading somewhere off in the distance, close to the Kingdom’s borders — a secret entrance that only the King knew of. George and Jorja continued to stand there, as Quackity fell to his knees out of shock. His own father killed his son’s best friend’s father. His own father killed his own friend, and hundreds of others. Kara bent down next to him, holding her boyfriend close as he cried into her shirt. 

At the tents, Karl sat with a soldier, holding his bow and arrow that Alanna had bought him that day when his father died. He had heard George faintly, but he knew what he had said. His father was murdered, but it was okay. Karl didn’t care much about it. All that mattered to the boy was that he had an older brother now, and possibly a great stepdad who loves Karl’s mother, someone who could make her happy after so long of misery because of Schlatt’s passing.

Karl was happy, nonetheless. As wrong as that may seem, he was happy that everyone was getting closure. Or at least, almost everyone at least.

* * *

**song;** _waterfalls coming_ _out_

_ of your mouth - glass animals _

Wilbur grunts as he stands against the side of the house, his stump of an arm continuing to bleed. He chanted a gentle healing spell, and soon the bleeding stopped entirely. He wrapped the stump with his sweater, his undershirt was completely covered in blood starting from the right side, which was the side of which arm got cut off. 

His eyes slid over to the right, he heard a voice in the distance, from the front of the house before the cliff. The brick and oak wooden made house sat on a cliff, a canyon-plateau basically. The canyon had a river flowing at the bottom of it, but it was a far way down. No one would ever survive that fall.

Wilbur limped over to the corner of the house, peaking around to see his brother standing there. He stood before a box, and he took out a knife and cut the box open. He opens it, and takes out an even smaller box. Wilbur squints his eyes, and he pulls himself past the corner, and he calls out to his brother.

“Oi, Tomathy,” 

Tommy groaned, rolling his eyes. 

“You know that my damn name isn’t Tomathy, you sack of shi— What the fuck happened to you!?” Tommy’s face was a surprising one to Wilbur. It’s what you’d expect when someone would first see another after a bit and suddenly they had a missing arm.

Wilbur shuddered, “I just . . . got into a fight.”

Tommy began to walk over to him, but Wilbur put his hand out to stop him, then he walked over to Tommy and grabbed a hold of him so he could balance himself. When he was leaving the house earlier, when his arm was bleeding out, he tripped and hurt his leg badly. At least he still had it.

“With who?” Tommy asked, “I’ll— I’ll show ‘em a lesson!” Tommy was also defensive when it came to his older brother. Even if Tommy was scared of him, he still wanted to protect him, as he worried what might happen if he didn’t. 

Wilbur shook his head, “N-No, I’m fine.” 

Tommy held onto Wilbur, “Have you seen Father?” he asked him, “I wanted to ask him something.” Weirdly, it was like Tommy had forgotten about Wilbur’s plan, as his older brother had debunked his theory several times, and even seemed to be better than he was, mentally at least, which could have convinced the boy that he had nothing to worry about.

Wilbur shifted his eyes back and forth, his throat feeling dry. He knew his father was still inside the house, and he was sure he wouldn’t come out for a while, as Philza had a feeling that Wilbur might try to attack him if he left the house right now.

“O-Oh, I h-haven’t seen h-him,” Wilbur lied, but Tommy stared at him.

“Will,” said Tommy quietly, “tell me who did this to you,  _ please _ .” But Wilbur shook his head. 

“I c-can’t,” Wilbur replied, “I j-just can’t.” He turned his head, but the blonde furrowed his eyebrows, glaring at his brother.

Tommy was getting angry, so he started to guess who it was. “Was it a traitor? Was it a drunk? A soldier from Pogtopia?” He guessed rather quickly, which may have taken Wilbur back a bit. 

Wilbur shook his head again, and then he stepped away from Tommy, “I’m going back inside—” 

Tommy grabbed Wilbur’s collar, “Answer me, Will! Quit being distant and just answer me, you fuck!” He was getting frustrated at his older brother now, but Wilbur — he only felt pain.

Wilbur stared at his brother with wide eyes and an agape jaw. “You’re not listening,” said Wilbur quietly, “I can’t tell you, because you’d make it a big deal.” He wasn’t sure on the most important reason why he couldn’t tell Tommy. Whether it was because Tommy might exploit it and might overreact, or the solemn fact that it was their father who did it.

Tommy thinned his lips, looking down at the ground. “Will, I’m just trying to help.”

Wilbur huffs, tugging at the skin on his wrist and arm as he didn’t have a shirt on to do as he had used his shirt to wrap around what was left of his right arm. “I don’t want your help, Tommy,” he told the younger male, “I don’t want anything. I just need to s-sit down.”

“No,” 

Wilbur looked up.

“I’m going to help you, Wilbur. For god sakes, your fucking arm is gone!” Tommy exclaimed, pointing to the arm, but Wilbur turned away. “Please, Will,” said Tommy, “I want to help. Please just let me help you. I know you’re going through a lot, and I know you’ve not been yourself, but I just want to help—”

“Wait what?” 

Tommy stopped, and he closed his mouth almost immediately. One eyebrow is raised, and the other creases. His white and red shirt wrinkles as he hangs his arms against his sides.

“What?” Tommy tilted his head.

“Do you . . . Do you think I’m mentally ill?”

_ Yes _ .

“No,” Tommy lied, “of course not.”

Wilbur began to chuckle, “Don’t lie to me, Tomathy,” he warned darkly, “you think I’m ill in the head, eh?” He cocked his head, shadowing his eyes. “Funny you think that, Tomathy —  _ really _ . You think that your own fucking brother isn’t okay? You think I’m a  _ psychopath _ ?”

Tommy shook his head, stepping back as Wilbur began to walk closer to him. 

“No, Wilbur, I don’t, I promise—”

“Stop lying to me, Tommy!” Wilbur cried out at Tommy, his voice scratchy. “I’m not insane! I’m not ill! Why would you think that of me? Is it because—” He shivered, “—is it because of that stupid plan?” He referred to the plan Tommy wanted to stop, even though Wilbur debunked it.

Tommy puts his hand out to his brother, “No, Wilbur. I was just overreacting that day, I didn’t know what I was talking about.” but Wilbur didn’t believe him. He didn’t believe him at all.

His eyes turned red, just like they did back in that dim room where him and his own father fought, earning the loss of an arm and probably the relationship with his father.

“Stop lying, Tommy,” Wilbur suddenly grabbed Tommy, pushing him back, to the point where he was barely standing on the edge of the cliff, “You’ve always been such a fucking liar,” he was losing it, “just fucking stop! Why won’t you just stop lying?!”

Wilbur let go of Tommy’s shirt, a gasp leaving the blonde’s mouth. The brunette watches Tommy, but stays silent, frozen. He couldn’t move, but he didn’t want to. He felt nothing, he felt no remorse or regret, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be. The wind whistled gently, blowing through the boy’s hair, his eyes turning back into the regular brown. 

He turned around, and looked up, seeing a familiar blonde woman standing there with a much taller male standing behind her. As he met eyes with the woman, he heard a slight echoing splash from the river down below in the canyon behind him. He chuckled darkly.

“Sorry,” said Wilbur, “I think I’ve made a mistake.”


	11. Familiar Flames

**song;** _hit the road jack - 2wei_

_(continued in scene 3)_

Sapnap falls onto the ground, clutching his leg that had been cut by a sword. He had just killed the soldier who had done — a soldier who still supported King Dream even after it was revealed that King Dream was a mass murderer — just minutes before. He was bleeding fast, but it wasn’t too much to handle. Alanna runs over to him, grabbing his arm and lifting him off the ground. She led him to a ditch, a deep one — one you’d see during any type of war, a trench. 

Sapnap hisses as he lowers himself onto the ground, holding his leg. Alanna takes out a bandage from her bag and wraps it around his leg where the cut was, tightly and secure around the wound. Alanna looked back up at him, and he gave her a weakened smile.

“I don’t care if I’m hurt,” Sapnap said, “I’m going to help you.”

Alanna raised an eyebrow, “Help me? — N-No, you’re staying here.”

Sapnap scoffed, “I am a grown man, and I am also your lover,” he spoke with a smirk, like he was proud of it — which he was, and that just made Alanna’s cheeks turn red like a teenager’s would when their crush lightly brushes against their shoulder. “Let me stand by your side, fighting to avenge Schlatt and everyone we lost.”

The woman stared at him, quiet.

“You remind me,” she hummed, “of Schlatt.”

Sapnap tilted his head, but she took her hand and placed it against his cheek, the palm of her hand against his skin. She pulls him close, into a quick, but loving kiss.

“Smart, humble,” she began to list, “witty, but you’re different from him in most ways,” she spoke gently, “that’s a good thing,” she admits, “it’s a good thing you’re different.”

The male sat there, his face still close to hers, “What are you saying?”

Alanna let out a sigh. “I’m saying he was bad, he was a bad person who changed for me and our family together, but he still did things that ruined parts of our lives that I could never forget. Though,” she gave him a smile, “you’re good. Pure, not drowning yourself in alcohol because of how regretful you are of your past mistakes.”

Sapnap leaned up and kissed her for a moment, pulling away with his forehead still against hers, his hand placed on her neck. “I’m going to protect you with my life, Lana,” he promised to her, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Alanna didn’t want him to fight along beside her then, he was hurt and any wrong move might cost him his leg, or his life, and she didn’t want to lose another lover, another soulmate, another friend. She loved Sapnap, and she didn’t want him to get more hurt, but he was stubborn, and so was she. She knew he wouldn’t give up, so she nodded her head.

The two stood up from the ground, and they both turned to look at the castle in the far, but close enough distance. It was still mid-day, but the sun was beginning to move closer to the evening that seemed to be dawning on them soon enough. The two headed towards the castle, their hands connected together as they tried to hide from the ongoing battles between the now former Pogtopia soldiers and L’Manberg soldiers against the soldiers who still supported King Dream, and his awful, deadly plan just to kill King Techno, his own former friend and mentor.

There was a guard standing in front of the door, a full iron armor suit dressed upon him, along with a helmet that covered his face and chains that hung from the inside of his helmet. A sword’s end sat on the ground in between his feet that pointed in opposite directions. Sapnap turned to Alanna, and she gave him a short nod.

Sapnap stepped away from her and soon approached the guard. He knew Clay was inside the throne room, mainly as he had just heard a shout from said King from inside the closed room. “Hello,” he greeted with a cough, pretending to be hurt, his leg limping, “I-I need t-to a-aid with this c-cut of mine,” Sapnap told the guard, “I b-bandaged as m-much as I could with w-what I had, but it’s still ble-eeding and I n-need it t-to be s-sutu-ured as soon a-as possib-ble.”

The guard bowed and opened the door, calling out, “Sir, this man needs a suture kit.”

The King, Clay, walks over and within a moment, Sapnap pushes through the cracked open door and tackles the King. The guard, shocked and taken back from the sudden move from the Leader of the Royal Guard, he goes to pull Sapnap off of the King as he punched him over and over again, but Alanna pulls the guard back, pulling out her sword, beginning to fight with the guard so Sapnap could fight Clay, but then Sapnap gets off of him as Clay struggles to sit up, and he takes out his own sword and begins to fight the guard so Alanna could take his spot in fighting King Dream.

Alanna points her sword at the King as he stands up, his face bruised but not swollen, red and bloody was the partially opened wound on his face that was opened because of Sapnap punching his face repeatedly, and as Alanna went into Sapnap’s head for only a moment, she heard a thought where he claimed the reason he punched him so many times was to stun him, to slow him down, a way to help Alanna get revenge against her dead husband’s killer.

“I trusted you,” said Alanna to Clay with a shivering voice, “you were a savior to your Kingdom, a King who all respected so much,” she tilts her sword to the right, “but you betrayed hundreds— even thousands— of your people just so you could kill King Techno.”

The anger in her voice was strong now, clear enough as a summer sky. Clay stood up, grunting and popping his bones as he stretched. He grabbed his cane, pulling the orb at the end as he held the stick part of it tightly, pulling a katana, similar to Alanna’s, out of the cane.

“I know he didn’t kill my father,” said Clay with a deep, husky voice, “and I know I have nothing to blame him for, but I wish blame him for everything that’s wrong with me because he let me do all of this, and he didn’t even try to stop me,” he chuckled, raising his katana, “so if I can’t kill him,” he tore off the rest of his broken mask, “then I’ll kill you instead.”

She gasps, but she grips her own katana, slashing it against his, but he was quick, even if he was injured and bruised all over. Blood dripped off his cheek from the partially open cut, but he didn’t care that it stained his royal clothes. Nothing mattered more than killing her.

Alanna jumps back, but barely catches her balance. Holding her katana out, she pants. Staring at him, looking him up and down slowly, observing the way he stood there, waiting for her to attack him with her katana, even though she just stared and observed his every breath, his eyes shifting, sweat and blood dripping down his face. His height — he was just as tall as Schlatt, built similar to him as well. She felt as if she was fighting her own dead husband, and that made her feel ill to her stomach, but she couldn’t give up. She had to ignore it.

She had to imagine fighting Schlatt, the one who robbed and murdered people. Not the one who loved and cherished her, who gave her children who she raised and still love so much. But, she still missed his fluffy brown hair, those brown eyes, gruffy sideburns and large tan horns on each side of his head. His smile, his laugh, his large but gentle hands, his long legs that made him tower over most. But, he was gone. Gone forever. 

But she was okay, or at least she will be. Once she gets answers.

“But why did you kill Schlatt?” Alanna asked firmly, “How did killing him benefit you?”

Clay looked down for a moment, his face shadowed, “You see,” he began to chuckle, “Schlatt and I were close, almost like brothers,” just like Wilbur, “but once I found out about his traitorous ways with that stupid general of L’Manberg,” he croaked, “I had to punish him, once and for all.”

“But you killed him!” She exclaimed, “And you killed dozens of others! More than Schlatt ever killed!”

The King laughed, “You think they cared? The people? No! The numbers don’t matter! — except, well, the full-ass cemetery, but frankly,” Clay gave Alanna a darkened look, shadowed eyes, “it’d be nice that you could become the most recent addition.”

He charges at her then, but she dodged and within just moments, two pure white wings, made of almost holographic bones, appear, sprouting from her upper back, and she jumps. The wings begin to flap, and she starts to fly.

She hovers over to the throne, standing on the arms of the throne. She looks at Clay, and with a determined grin, she raises her katana. “I hope you realize who you’re fighting today, King Dream,” she stated, then she lowered her katana, pointing it towards the Pogtopia King. A white mist begins to spread throughout the room, her skin turns into a pure white, her eyes go fully black. Her hair is now wrapped into a braided bun, white flowers made of bones sit as decorations in her hair. Her clothes were a gray, silver-like color. She was . . . an Mob-Human in its finest form, its _deadliest_ form.

Clay watches her with an agape jaw, and Sapnap and the guard, who had taken his helmet off, revealing himself to be named Sam, step over and stare at her. From behind the window stands George and Jorja, watching what was going on inside the throne room.

Alanna, with her katana now pure white and the handle made of bones, raises it once again over her head, and she smirks.

“It’s time you reunite with your father.”

* * *

**song;** _nobody - mitski_

Chrisalyn stood there, one foot took a step back behind her, hesitating. Her eyes watched the taller, brunette male lean his weight onto his left foot, his left arm hanging as his right arm was, well, not there. The sky was turning a slight orange now, the sun was setting soon. Ranboo, who stood just a couple steps behind his girlfriend, watched with wide, dancing eyes as he couldn’t believe his eyes, even if he might not remember it in an hour or less.

Wilbur pants, his shoulders moving up and down heavily. 

“What did you do?” Chrisa asked slowly, her eyebrows furrowing.

The L’Manberg General lets out a chuckle, “I made a mistake. That’s all.”

Chrisalyn’s blood began to boil inside her veins. She knew what he had done, but she wanted him to admit it, so killing him wouldn’t be murder. It’d be justice. But what he did, it took her so much to keep in her sorrow, to keep herself from falling down to her knees and crying.

“Wilbur Soot,” Chrisalyn said his name so firmly, his skin was covered in goosebumps now, “you are the future husband of my best friend,” at this time, she didn’t know Erin had died, only that she had gone into the war without Wilbur, “you’re a good guy, Wilbur.”

Wilbur stared at her.

“So why won’t you be honest with yourself?” Chrisalyn tilted her head, “Why won’t you be honest about what you fucking did to my best friend?” 

Tommy, oh boy — the adopted son of Philza and best friend of Princess Chrisalyn of L’Manberg. Tommy and Chrisalyn were similar, and they were close. But only Chrisalyn knew of Tommy’s past before he was adopted, which was when he was about 7. In the present day, Chrisalyn was 17 and Tommy was 14, but now, Tommy is gone. Drifting away in the river at the bottom of the canyon. Just thinking about it made Chrisalyn feel sick to her stomach. 

“I’m s-sorry,” said Wilbur, “I am — I-I didn’t know w-what I w-was doing,” he was beginning to shake, he kept stuttering, “I didn’t mean to.” That last part — it was so firm, so deep. It sounded devilish.

Chrisalyn pulled out her bow and arrow, aiming it at the brunette general of L’Manberg. A gasp leaves Wilbur’s mouth before an arrow shoots out at him, but he jumps to the left, falling shoulder first onto the ground as he couldn’t really catch himself. Chrisalyn takes another arrow from her quiver, aiming her bow again at Wilbur, but Wilbur grunts. 

“Why are you trying to kill me?” Wilbur asked in a panic, his evil side was breaking apart, “I told you I didn’t mean to do it! Why don’t you just arrest me!?”

“Because you don’t deserve a second chance!” Chrisalyn shouts at him, “You murdered your own brother by pushing him off a cliff — my best friend is dead because of you!” She hitched her breath, “You murdered the son of King Dream.”

Wilbur gasps, and so does Ranboo as he stands behind Chrisalyn, frozen in place. 

“What . . . are you . . . talking about?” Wilbur asked, “Tommy’s not . . .”

Chrisalyn sighed, lowering her head slightly.

“Tommy was about 7 when he was adopted by your father, but he spent 5 years at the orphanage prior to that. He was found as a 2 year old at the doorstep of the orphanage, and later, we realized it was the supposedly dead son of King Dream, the son who he thought was kidnapped and killed by some criminal of L’Manberg, but he was wrong, because I saw his own mother drop off the baby at the orphanage that day.”

Chrisalyn was right. That morning, she remembered walking with her older brother, Techno, through the village. She was about 5, and her brother was about 28. It had been 4 years since King Dream and Queen Jorja had Prince Quackity, and just three years later, they had Prince Tommy, who, as a little toddler, was taken by his own mother, Queen Jorja, to L’Manberg in hope that Tommy would be saved from his real father’s miserable reign, even though she couldn’t save Quackity, too. 

Wilbur’s eyes were shaking, “So I was right then,” his lips curved into a smirk again, and his eyes turned red, “all he ever did was lie to me.” 

Chrisalyn furrowed her eyebrows, “What the _hell_ is _wrong_ with you?” She threw her bow down, and then her quiver, taking Ranboo’s sword and running towards Wilbur, swinging the sword at him, but he stepped back, reaching his hand out, using some magical chant to bring his own sword to his hand with ease. 

He blocks her swing, but he knocks him back so he falls onto his butt, hissing under his breath but he quickly raises his sword to block Chrisalyn’s sword from swinging at him, as she wanted to kill him while he was down, but Wilbur was smart. He wasn’t stupid, even if he was going crazy, or, persay, had gone crazy.

Chrisalyn pushes her sword against his, “Why did you do it? Why did you kill him?” She cried out. She could feel her lover’s stare on her, but Ranboo wouldn’t move. He couldn’t. 

He was frozen, afraid of what could happen at any moment. He wanted to help her, but his legs were stuck to the grass below him. Wilbur was his mentor, the one he looked up to. He wanted to become like Wilbur for years, ever since he first moved to L’Manberg, but now, he wasn’t sure about his past feelings about Wilbur, and how he’ll feel now and in the future. Wilbur was evil, fighting the Princess of his own kingdom that he protected and worked for. It pained Ranboo to watch this all unravel before him, without being able to help his lover, or at least stop this fight, and try to hear his former mentor out. But, he knew he couldn’t. 

“Why did you push Tommy off that cliff?” They were only a couple feet from said cliff, and with what Wilbur knew of enchantment spells, he could’ve easily thrown her off the cliff as well, but maybe he was too weak to do such a thing. 

Maybe he was only strong enough to attract his sword towards him, rather than pick someone up entirely off the ground and throw them off a cliff. As much as he wanted to do that, Wilbur couldn’t. But it wasn’t just his weak state stopping him from doing that. 

“P-Please,” 

Chrisalyn let out a quiet gasp.

Wilbur’s hands were trembling, causing the sword to shake and scratch against the blonde woman’s sword, “P-Please j-just let m-me g-go.” He begged her quietly, “P-Please.”

Chrisalyn cared for the older male. Dearly. He was her best friend’s fiance, a good friend of her own. Even if he did terrible things, causing him to lose an arm in the process, she felt bad. 

Wilbur was an interesting character to say the least. He could be kind and very compassionate, but it seems now that everything he did was an act, to hide his true mentality. His corrupted mind that had twisted his heart with vines covered in thorns. Those brown eyes of his that would turn a bright crimson, the color of a fully grown rose, were what was beautiful about those thornful vines. They were what showed his true side from behind his sinful smirks.

The blonde girl takes her sword back, and Wilbur lowers his own, dropping it onto the ground beside him, and she reaches her hand out to help him stand up. He hesitates, looking up at her with tearful eyes, though they seem fake to Chrisalyn, and he takes her hand, standing up from the grassy ground. He wiped his pants off with the hand he had, his pants were dirty from the dirt and some blades of grass that stuck to his ass. 

Chrisalyn takes his hand again, catching him off guard slightly. “Go, Wilbur.”

Wilbur tilted his head. “Huh?”

She cared for Wilbur greatly, and she could’ve never killed him even if she wanted to. She was too good, too kind. Too much of what he tried so hard to be. But soon, she’d know, the only one who had ever kept Wilbur sane — _Erin_ — was gone.

“Go,” she repeated to him, “run away and never come back.”

Wilbur’s eyes began to dance, but he didn’t say no. He nodded shortly, and he turned away, walking away, and he stepped before Ranboo, who was still frozen in his stance, and he pulled him into a gentle, but tight hug. He pats his back before he steps back and places his hand on the side of Ranboo’s face. He was Ranboo’s (former) mentor, after all. Even if he was a traitor to the Kingdom of L’Manberg.

Wilbur let out a sigh, and Ranboo sniffled, feeling the tears welling up in his tearsockets, burning him, causing steam to rise into the air from the corner of his eyes. 

“I’m sorry I caused all this, but now I must run away, and I know I am at fault. I brought this upon myself,” Wilbur whispered to him, “I wish I could’ve been a better mentor for you, my dear Ranboo,” his breath hitched and before he ran off, he whispered one last thing to the Half-and-Half boy, “I may have been ill in the head, but that doesn’t make me evil.”

Wilbur then turned away and ran off into the woods. Ranboo turns his head and watches him closely, and Chrisalyn approaches her lover, placing her hand on his arm. “Ranboo?” She whispers, and then, the taller boy turned to her with his lips thinned. 

“He was like a father to me, Chrisalyn,” he spoke quietly to his girlfriend, “and he killed dozens of people, including the son of King Dream - who was his own brother,” he sighed, “and wherever he may end up at the end of this war. Alive or not.” Ranboo turned back to look into the forest, seeing as Wilbur made it the end of the forest, entering the large grassy plain and heading east as the sky turned a mix between orange and pink, “He’ll always be my mentor.” 

  
  


* * *

**song;** _hit the road jack - 2wei_

_(continued)_

Staring up at her, Clay felt his heart shaking from within his chest. His friend, a fellow soldier, his own citizen of the Kingdom, stood with one foot on each arm of the large golden and emerald throne that belonged to the King, her katana, now bigger and sharper, in her hands. Her wings spread out to the left and right of her, a white mist covering the floor, surrounding their feet. 

In an instant, a gust of wind blows around the walls, blowing out the lit torches, turning their fire into a fire that was the color of the lake; a bright blue. Her black eyes had a small blue reflection from the torches. Her skin was a pure white, similar to Sapnap’s shirt. 

“Alanna,” Clay spoke out with a choke, gasping for air for just a moment, “You— You—”

“You killed my husband in cold blood,” Alanna cut him off his words, “You ordered your guards to take my eldest son away,” she points her katana at him, “You lied to me and hurt my family. Yet, you have no intention of ever apologizing for the pain you’ve caused for my family.”

Sapnap watches her, but with a turn of his head, he sees Sam, the guard, approaching him with a sword, so Sapnap raises his own sword and blocks his hit, gritting his teeth. “S-Sam, c-come on,” Sapnap pushed his sword against Sam’s, creating a clanking noise between the iron swords, “Y-You’re better t-than this.” But Sam didn’t believe him. 

“You’re wrong— he’s still a good guy!” Sam exclaimed at Sapnap, “He’s our King, Nick— How could you betray him like this?” He spoke in disbelief. Sapnap was once so close with the King, but now, Sapnap was against Clay — he didn’t want anything, even nothing at all, to do with him. “He’s our friend, and you- you stabbed him in the back.” Not literally, but Sapnap wished he did. Sapnap tries to grab a knife from his belt, but Sam takes it and throws it, and it hits one of the hanging torches, causing it to fall and the curtains near it catches on fire almost immediately.

“Did he brainwash you?” Sapnap asks with a rude tone, “Or are you just that stupid?” He loved Sam, he was a good friend. Someone he’d talk to while they trained together. Sam was a good guy, a good friend, but Sapnap knew whose side Sam was on, and he was sure his beliefs wouldn't change. 

Though he knew of Clay’s manipulation tactics, as he’s tried to manipulate him before, it was subtle, and it took a while to realize it. He didn’t think much of it, until after it was revealed of Clay’s true intentions, his evil ways, his death-filled plans. 

Sam scoffed, “Are you joking?” He swings his sword, but Sapnap blocks him. “King Dream did everything he could to get you the job you wanted. For fuck’s sake, you’re the Leader of the Kingdom’s Royal Guard! And you repay him by going behind his back and trying to kill him.”

Sapnap sighed.

“I know it looks bad, Sam,” said Sapnap with a breathless voice, panting slightly, “but he hurt— he killed so many people. I’m trying to make this world— this Kingdom a better place, but I can’t do that with a tyrant as its ruler.”

Sam grunts, “It doesn’t matter,” he raises his sword, “it’ll all be over soon enough.”

Alanna swings her sword at Clay, and he jumps back, blood continues to drip down his face and off his chin. Clay steps over and grabs his own sword from off the ground. He looks back at her, and he screams, “You’re a good person, Alanna! Please! Don’t do this!”

Her black eyes stared at him, and she lowered her head, “You killed the father of my children for a mistake he made in the past— a terrible mistake that he constantly tried to make up for. He used his own money and gave them to the families he hurt. He donated supplies and food and everything to them, knowing how bad his drunken, ruthless mistakes were and how much pain he caused them all. You took my son away from me, sending him off to L’Manberg just because Schlatt was an alcoholic. Sure, it makes sense,” she let out a sarcastic laugh, “but you took my son away from me. From his own fucking family. You killed dozens of people, and without any remorse to the families you hurt, you became the person you didn’t want to become.”

Clay stares up at her, his tears burning the cut on his cheek. He felt his world crumbling around him, he knew he was going to lose everything by the end of this night. His wife, his son, his Kingdom — but now, to him, nothing mattered as much as his reputation. His reign as King was coming to an end, everyone was going against him. He cared nothing of his own people, not even his wife, but his son — he needed him to become the next King, even if children out of wedlock could never be a rightful King, like himself.

“Alanna,” Clay began to say, “I know I made mistakes, but please believe me. I’m trying to make things right now—”

“Are you fucking trying to manipulate me right now?” She felt her blood boiling, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Alanna scoffed, and she jumped off the throne, and she began to walk towards the King, “You are a traitor to your own people! You killed your own people!” She shouted at him. She lowered her head, chuckling darkly, she raised her head slightly, looking at him through her eyebrows with a growling frown. “You are far worse than your father ever was.”

In a matter of seconds, Clay growled as he raised his katana and swung at the widow, catching her off guard, but she was able to raise her own katana and block his swing. He grunts and pushes her back, and she stumbles back, trying to balance herself. She looks back up and raises her sword as Clay ran towards her, trying to kill her ever so quickly, but he failed each time he swung as she blocked it every time.

“Stop blocking me!” Clay shouts at her, his voice was bringing out his evil side, “Let me fucking hit you!” His voice was raspy and hoarse. Alanna gasped, and her eyes widened, and they turned back into her regular brown eyes surrounded by white. Her pupils shifted from side to side, shocked from what he was saying.

Sapnap and Sam had stopped in motion as their swords propped up against each other, both of their heads turned to look at what was going on on the other side of the room. Alanna’s breath hitched, “C-Clay,” she stuttered, and his narrow, shadowed eyes stared into hers with only fury in them. He continued to push the sword forward, trying to knock her back and kill her.

“Clay.”

The King gasped, and he turned to the voice, his fury filled eyes going back to normal, almost filling with panic and anxiety, and there stood George. Alanna turned to look at George as well, and she felt her heart stop for a moment. Clay gulped, swallowing harshly. “G-George?”

George approached them, and he took Clay’s hand, guiding his hand away from Alanna with his katana still in his hand, and so he takes the sword and throws it somewhere away from them, and he places his other hand on Clay’s blood-covered face, gently pulling his face closer to him, letting Clay lay his forehead on his shoulder, letting him cry now.

Alanna stands there a bit confused, and George meets eyes with her. The walls were heating up, the curtains were covered in flames. George sighs, “Go, Alanna,” he tells her, “and please,” he gulped, “take care of yourself.”

Alanna, not knowing what to do, does what her heart and instinct says and she begins to run away. She grabs Sapnap’s arm, “Come on,” and as Sapnap turns to follow her, he looks back at Sam and frowns.

“Sam,” Sapnap spoke to him, and the guard slowly turned his head to him, “come with us.”

The guard looks to George and Clay, then back at Sapnap and Alanna, and with a short nod, “Okay.”

Sapnap pushes open the entrance doors, and they run out, smoke spills out from the top of the entrance. The three make their way down the steps in a pace, heading out of the Kingdom’s borders and into the war fields, as it has become worse than before.

* * *

**song;** _feel something - clairo_

Kara takes a step back as she grabs an arrow from her quiver, aiming her bow at soldiers who were trying to get to Prince Quackity. The sky was orange, and it was darkening more each minute. Kara could feel her heart pounding with each arrow shooting from the bow. Quackity took his sword and clashed it against a soldier’s, pushing them back before finally stabbing them through their abdomen. 

Quackity hated how he had to kill all of these soldiers who loved his father so much that they ignored the fact he was a horrible person. He was never the ‘person-killing’ type like his father, which he knew was a good thing, just not in battle.

The girl heads over to Quackity, “We need to move closer to the middle of the field,” she told her boyfriend quietly, “we need to make sure everyone is okay—”

There’s a sudden scream from the near distance, cutting Kara off, causing both of them to turn to where the scream had come from with wide eyes and goosebumps all over their skin. Quickly, they ran over to find Purpled kneeling beside BBH, the current Pogtopia General, who had just been shot with an arrow through his stomach. 

Purpled was rambling, “W-We can s-save y-you, I p-promise,” his hand stayed placed on the wound around the arrow, trying not to move it, “Just k-keep b-breathing, BBH, p-please.”

BBh coughed, clearing his throat, but his mouth dripped with blood. “P-Purpled,” he tried to raise his hand to Purpled’s face — his dear friend holding him as he bleeded out through his stomach - he felt so bad, worse than what the pain was causing him to feel like. “I-I’m s-sorry.”

“No,” Purpled shook his head, “You’re not going to die on me,” he spoke clearly, but his voice still quivered and broke, “You’re my best friend.”

BBH exhaled shakingly, “Y-You have J-Jade,” the girl Purpled had begun to like, “and a-after I-I’m g-gone,” BBH struggled to smile, “p-promise m-me y-you’ll t-take c-care of y-yourself f-for m-me.” 

Purpled hitches his breath, shaking his head still, “No! Y-You’re not g-going to d-die on m-me!” He couldn’t bear the thought of losing BBH, his best friend. 

BBH placed his hand on Purpled’s face, rubbing his thumb against the younger male’s cheekbone gently. The wind whistled by them, and Purpled leaned against his palm, crying softly, trying to hold back his sobs. 

BBH sighed. “Take care of Fundy for me.”

And then, as his body finally went limp in Purpled’s arms, BBH’s hand fell from his face.

* * *

**song;** _feel something - clairo_

_(continued)_

The walls were covered in flames, it was humid in the air. The floor was beginning to heat up from underneath their legs. George sat on the floor, his knees bent underneath him. Clay sat taller, letting George lean his head against his broad chest. 

Clay’s blood stained face was sweating, but so was George’s pale face. But even though it was hot, Clay had his arm around his right hand man, keeping him close. The doors were already closed and stuck, blocked from fallen arches that were burning with fire. They couldn’t leave.

Their bare skin was turning a flushed red, and their clothes were becoming messy and covered in soot and ash. A light chuckle leaves Clay’s parted lips, his eyes shut gently. 

George looks up at him, “What’s . . .” he coughs, “so funny?” He asks in curiosity. 

Clay brings him closer, the fire spreading onto the rug that they sat close to, guaranteed to burn them as well. “It’s ironic, that’s all. I killed Schlatt and let him burn inside that house, and now, we’re going to burn just like him.” There was pain in his voice, he was scared to die.

George held onto the taller male’s shirt, “I know you’re scared,” he could read Clay like a book, and Clay knew that George could. “But don’t be, I’m here with you. We’ll . . . walk into the light together, I promise.”

Clay knew George wasn’t the sympathetic type, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe George had grown to finally understand others’ emotions, and even his own. Clay had known George since he was just a little Prince, as George was the son of the Leader of the Royal Guard at the time. George had never known how to express how he felt, and he had never really been the type to understand why others loved him. He couldn’t understand, but Clay tried so hard to make George believe that he was worth loving. He had always been worth loving. 

To Clay, at least.

“I love you,” Clay reminded George like he always had, a gentle tone in his voice as he spoke, his tears evaporating off his face from the scorching heat.

George hitched his breath, and he closed his eyes, leaning his entire body onto Clay as the fire hit their skin, burning them both. Clay shouted out in pain, and so did George, their tears turning into steam as they held onto each other in their final moments.

Soon enough, fire had corrupted them, causing them to collapse on the floor behind them. George’s head stayed on Clay’s chest, holding onto him for dear life as his skin burned and wrinkled, turning a light black in the process. Clay, as the same was happening to him, struggled to breathe without coughing up ash and soot, his lungs filling with smoke.

“I love you.”

Clay smiled, and he brought George closer to him, and he leaned his head back against the floor, staring up at the ceiling. It began to creak, and soon it collapsed, falling onto them, but as it all began to fall onto them, time began to slow, and so Clay whispered to George quietly before their lives were now over. 

Soon to be crushed by wooden arches from the ceiling of the throne room that was burning to the ground now, soon the whole castle would crumble to the ground, but it was all worth it. Laying there with each other, skin wrinkling from the fire burning it, holding each other in their last moments in the castle where they grew up together, where they kept to themselves and fell in love, despite one’s own wife and son. They no longer cared about them now. It was all over. Nothing mattered anymore. 

“I love you, too.”

* * *

**song;** _chasing cars - sleeping at last_

Almost at exactly 6 in the evening, the castle of Pogtopia collapsed into itself. The sky was darkening, a red and purple mixed horizon surrounding them on that world as the stars began to appear in the sky above them all. The civilians, who were in hiding, came out and watched from the villages and the fields as their terrible King’s castle burned to the ground. 

From a mountain nearby, there sat a plateau where Alanna stood just a couple feet from the edge. She watched the castle burn to its foundation, the walls falling from TNT blowing up in random spots, as the guards who had turned against King Dream had put them there to bring down the Kingdom — the Kingdom that Clay ruined with his death-filled, revengeful plan.

She had returned to her human state by now, and she slid her hands into her pockets. She sighed. Everything was . . . okay now. She felt bad that now Quackity had lost his father, and he’d soon learn to know that his own brother, Tommy, was gone, too. She felt bad for the young boy, but she was glad he still had Kara and Jorja, and Sapnap and Karl and the others.

Now, Quackity and Kara sat at the tents with Karl and now Fundy who came with Purpled. It took an hour, but Purpled had buried BBH in the new garden by the lake.

Alanna’s daughter, Camille, was with Alyssa and Purpled now at one of the markets in the villages, trying to gather food for the injured soldiers from the war. There were so many, but they had help, at least.

Sapnap was helping Jorja and a few of the L’Manberg soldiers take the dead bodies to the cemetery as Eret of L’Manberg helped make the tombstones for each of them.

Alanna had already buried Erin’s body underneath the tree where she died, in honor of her.

Ranboo had already spoken with Alanna, and informed Chrisalyn of the loss of Erin, but she didn’t blame Alanna. She blamed Erin for her own death, as bad as that might seem. She believed Erin should have given Alanna another chance, even if Alanna didn’t do anything wrong in the first place. 

Niki had written a letter to her old friend, rolling into a scroll and tying it with a piece of rope. She, as a witch, lifted the scroll and let it vanish, appear in someone else’s hands, to inform them of the loss of their fiancée in battle. 

King Techno arrived back at his castle, exhausted from fighting and running. He was worried about his sister, but he knew she was alright. He mostly worried who was going to be the ruler of the Kingdom of Pogtopia now. Would it be the Queen? The Prince? Maybe even the widow herself? He wasn’t sure.

Jade went to the library with Purpled later to calm him down and comfort him, as Fundy and Karl sat with Quackity and Kara while they read the two young boys a bunch of stories. Stories of their own personal adventures, some stories of Karl’s father, and even some of Fundy’s father — who had yet to learn of his father’s passing.

Philza had sutured his cut, worried for his sons who remained, knowing of Tommy’s death. He had searched the river bank at the bottom of the canyon already, but ultimately found his son’s body at one of the dividing streams of the river. It didn’t take him a long to arrive back to the house (he used his wings) where he buried his poor son in front of the house, just near the cliff that he was pushed off of by his own brother. He knew Wilbur had ran away, and he figured Tubbo would stay with his real mother now. He was . . . all alone again.

“Ma?”

Alanna turned her head, her body slightly too, and there stood her eldest son — Tubbo. The Prince of L’Manberg, youngest (adopted) son of Philza. A boyish charm, he had. An innocent smile, too. His outfit — it had royalty written all over it, but there was a little patch in the corner of a little bee. Tubbo loved bees.

The woman gave him a smile. “Hi, Tubbo.”

Tubbo stepped closer, now standing next to his real mother. He turned to look off at the burning castle, but before he could speak, she spoke again.

“I’m sorry I let them take you away,” Alanna said to him quietly, “I should’ve fought harder for you.”

“Stop blaming yourself,” Tubbo told her, “it’s not your fault, and it’s not Dad’s either. It was King Dream’s.” He was right, but Alanna didn’t believe him.

Tubbo and Alanna turn back to the castle, its flames burning it all to the ground — so familiar to the woman, the widow of Tubbo’s real father. Tubbo sighed, and glanced over to his mother.

“You did the right thing,” Tubbo said reassuringly to her, “Dad would’ve been proud.”

Alanna sighs, the castle soon collapsed into itself finally before their eyes, its orange embers flying into the air around it, even making it to just before the cliff the two stood on, watching this all unfold.

“Yeah,” she smiled, “he would’ve.”

  
  


_**Fin.** _

* * *

CREDITS:

**song;** _hayloft - mother mother_

_oc’s:_

@lanaboke, @mrsmatsukawa - Alanna

@tendous.paradise_ - Jade

@momiikaruma - Kara

@chrisa_lyn - Chrisalyn

@ehmm.cke - Erin

@je0ngyun0lvr - Jorja

herself - Camille

_streamers:_

Dreamwastaken

Georgenotfound

Sapnap

Technoblade

RanbooLive

JschlattLive

QuackityHQ

Karl Jacobs

Wilbur Soot

Tommyinnit

Tubbo

Philza

BadBoyHalo

Purpled

Awesamedude

Callahan

Punz

Skeppy

Nihachu 

Alyssa

Fundy

Eret

and everyone else i may have included !

thank you all for making me the happiest i’ve ever been. i love you all, thank you for helping me in my worst days. :)

i hope you enjoyed !

\- @lanaboke

• • •

”it was never meant to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that’s the end! i hope you enjoyed this story! pls leave a kudos/comment if u liked it! ily all!


End file.
